A Promise of Heaven
by TheMacUnleashed
Summary: Her hair, black as ravens' wings. Her eyes, like swirling twilight. Her midi-chlorian count, 20,000. Her Master, Obi-Wan "perpetual headache" Kenobi. Her name? Rhiannon Moonfire... Mary-Sue parody fic.
1. Chapter 1

_a/n: A short story -in-progress; three chapters long, currently, written in October and published during November, as I work on my NaNo. Comments make the world go 'round! : - )_

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"You know, Master Yoda, in all technicalities I have no obligation to take on another Padawan." Obi-Wan frowned as he gazed out into the sea of younglings, all hoping to be noticed by a Master as they fake-dueled and fake-tried-to-kill each other. "In fact, it might be better if I _didn't_ get another. After all, I frequently go into high-risk situations that would be extremely dangerous for a youngling."

"Care about that, you think I do?" Yoda squinted out into the mix. "Outrank you, I do! Do whatever the kark I tell you to, you must."

"Yes, Master." He really couldn't argue with that. "But if I don't really want to take one on I'll never be able to form a bond and then that'll not make for a nice situation growing up, as they will constantly strive for attention and love and never get any and then one day I will abandon him or her for a new, shinier Padawan and then I'll die," he added, angsting just a little.

"Dead, Qui-Gon is! Get over that, you must."

"I feel as though I should be allowed my own period of time to mourn."

"No. Anyway, picked out a Padawan for you, I have!"

"Oh, really? And who might that be?" Obi-Wan figured it was just better to pretend to say he would take a new apprentice, and then go to Jabiim and get tortured, or something.

"There, in the center of arena, is she!" He pointed a trembling, green finger to where a girl with hair so black it was as though some divine figure had poured coffee of the deepest sort onto it. "Rhiannon Moonfire, she is called."

"Ahh." He wanted to comment on the foolishness of the name, but living for a decade with someone called "Skywalker" made him stop. He watched as she stabbed an opponent with her shining silver lightsaber and squealed so loudly upon being pronounced the winner that he could hear her from where he stood. "Two quick questions: Why does she have a silver lightsaber, and is she a good duelist?"

"A silver lightsaber she has because she is special and powerful above all others, and shown, that must be! And yes, a good duelist is she. Never lost one since she came here, has she! Of course, having only come here a year ago, not hard, that is."

"A year ago! Are we just taking in every Force-sensitive kid we find?"

"Yeah, pretty much. And a kid, she is not! Fifteen, is she. Had three Masters already, the poor dear has."

"Three Masters _in_ _a year?_ How did she manage that?"

"An unknown tragedy, what happened to the first two is. Lasted a full six months did the last one, before running away and screaming something about being 'unable to take it anymore.'" Yoda shrugged. "A hard, terrible life, has this one lived! Born to poor parents and had to teach herself to read, she did, and-"

"Okay, I get the picture." Obi-Wan nodded. "She's a super-special prodigy. But do I have to take her on? I thought that nobody, not even the Council, could force an unwilling Master to take on a Padawan. And I'm a member of the Council myself!"

"Want Ahsoka, Anakin did not at first! Look how beautifully they are shaping out, you must."

"Master, she's the most disobedient member of her age-group who has no respect for authority."

"A teenager, you say? Agree, I do. And retconned the rules, we did! Do whatever we tell you, you must."

"But I _am_ the Council. Or a member, at least."

"Oh, deal with it, you will!"

Obi-Wan sighed. "Will anything positive come out of my arguing?"

"Kriff, no!"

"Fine. I'll try to make things work with her." He figured he could just say he took her on and then turn all of the actual training over to Anakin. Teach him a lesson. "I'll pick her up from the Room o' Lost Souls in half an hour." (For what it was worth, he hadn't voted for that name for the Initiates' quarters, but apparently his fellow Council Members had a bizarre sense of humour.)

"Good! Never argue, you should. Always give into peer pressure, you must!" Yoda gently patted Obi-Wan's knee. "A last thing, there is: Has a midi-chlorian count of twenty-thousand, she does, and Asajj Ventress's sister, she is."

"Twenty-thousand? _What?_ That can't be right! That's-" he continued protesting as the aged green Master hobbled off to his apartments.

This would not be fun.

_-Room o' Lost Souls-_

"Could it perhaps be that my life is turning around?" Rhiannon swept into the girls' room, shock written all over her pale-as-the-virgin-snow face. "At last, a Master has taken humble me on! I am in shock!"

Irr'Ellavent, a female Twi'lek who was made homely by comparison to the girl with eyes like the ever-changing twilight, gasped. "Oh, Rhiannon! How wonderful. Do tell, who has had the fortune of taking you on?"

"You flatter me, beloved friend! Master Kenobi has kindly agreed to train me to the best of his wide ability."

"Master Kenobi? That piece of gorgeous dreaminess? You lucky girl! I should be jealous of you, and yet I cannot bring myself to be."

"Oh, but do not worry, Ella. You might not be as pretty or as talented or as charismatic as me, but I'm sure somebody will like you!" Rhiannon smiled dreamily.

"Perhaps you are right, but still, I worry. You see-" the Twi'lek was about to continue when the sound of melting durasteel reached cut through the peace with a screech. Both of them turned around, startled to see a lightsaber's shining blue blade cutting through the door. It burned out a neat circle, which the person controlling the tool kicked in, before jumping through the molten-edged space.

"Eek! A man!" Ella jumped, while Rhiannon kept her dignity, though a startled look did appear on her face at the sight of another, male Padawan.

"Johun! What is the meaning of this untimely disturbance?"

"I have heard the news, Rhiannon!" He crossed the room in three great strides, an expression of grief written on his face. "They've come to take you away! Oh, darling, I've never told you, but I've always loved you!" He grasped her hand and knelt on the floor, staring up into her beautiful, swirling eyes. "Don't leave me, now!"

"Oh, Johun! I am sorry, but I must!" She sighed tragically. "Visit me, please! I now depart to meet with my new Master, but I will never forget my humble beginnings!"

She picked out the pre-packed bags she always kept with her and swept out of the room, never looking back to where Ella sobbed and Johun cried out, "Rhiannon! I promise you heaven if you stay! Don't leave me, now!"

Somewhere far in the distance, Obi-Wan felt his destiny approaching…


	2. Chapter two

Obi-Wan sat in his apartment, angsting. How could this be happening? He couldn't take on another Padawan! It was too dangerous, and besides, he had failed oh, so terribly with Anakin, judging from how he was currently raising Ahsoka. It had been a miracle that they had both found Ahsoka _and_ managed to clean out his apartments before the Coruscanti Child Protection Agency arrived at the Temple. Actually, come to think about it, running away just before the yearly inspection had been rather good planning of hers.

His ponderings were interrupted by the gentle chime of a doorbell. He glanced up at the chrono, surprised; was it time for Rhiannon to arrive all ready?

Before he could wonder further, though, the durasteel door slid open and a young, feminine figure entered. "I am a bit early, Master Kenobi. I'm so very sorry if that caused some inconvenience!"

"No, no, of course not!" Obi-Wan frowned suddenly, his comprehension of the happenings suddenly catching up to him, kind of in the same way that a train catches up to the poor person who happens to be crossing its tracks. "Wait a minute! I didn't mention to you my personal feelings about your time of arrival! Also, I'm pretty sure I didn't open the door for you."

"Oh, don't worry about that!" She gave him an all-knowing, angelic smile. "I opened the door myself, despite your numerous locks which I know you put on to keep Anakin out once he was knighted –I've been watching you for some time, you see- and I read your mind."

"That's…" he was torn between "impressive" and "creepy," and decided to say neither. "…impossible."

She chuckled, a sound like a silver sunset, like a kitten walking upon a bed of roses carved from gold. "Nothing is impossible, Master! You simply must learn from the student, just as the student must learn from the Master."

"Right. I'm _sure_ that's it." He nodded vigorously, wondering if this was one of those creatures that leave if you back away slowly, and then felt horrible for thinking that about his own student. "Why don't you go and settle in –your room is the one on the left—and I'll make some tea and we can get to know each other."

"Tea? How delightedly old fashion! Your plan is a very good one, Master Kenobi, and I'll be sure to be as fast and as graceful as a Nubian gazelle when putting my items away, so that I can enjoy this 'tea' with you!" With that having been said she skipped away, black hair fanning out like a cloud of locusts, of the most beautiful sort, around her.

Obi-Wan watched as she pirouetted into her bedroom, wondering just what in all of the however-many-there-were Corellian Hells he had gotten himself into.

"So…" Obi-Wan poured a steaming cup of carefully brewed rosefoot tea and set it before his new Padawan. "Tell me about yourself."

"Well, there really isn't much to say." She sniffed the liquid. "I was brought to the Temple about a year ago. I was an orphan, living on the streets of a terrible desert planet. Tatooine, perhaps you've heard of it? I was Anakin Skywalker's best friend; you see, even though I was five and he was nine I was a prodigy and he was dreadfully normal compared to me. But then I left for a week, because I had to go face Jabba the Hutt and some creatures called Vogons in a poetry reading contest –I write the most beautiful poems; did I mention that?—and when I came back he was gone. Oh, and I won the poetry reading contest."

"Er… that's good." He really wasn't sure how to respond; Anakin's story had been so much more straightforward! "How did you get to be on Tatooine? I heard you were Asajj Ventress's sister."

"Oh, well! That's a tragic tale of woe." She looked so sad that it was as if someone had just strangled a puppy in front of her. "I was the shame of my family, you see. I had hair! I was a terrible outcast, and my parents, being as influential as they were, couldn't afford to be associated with me. So they arranged for pirates to kidnap me!" She sighed dramatically, before shaking her head slightly and looking up at him with an optimistic expression on her face. "I don't blame them, though! I must have been a horrid burden! Although I suffered from self-confidence issues for years afterwards, but eventually I decided that my fantastic, almost inhuman talents made me who I was, and that I could love myself even if they hated me! Also, I killed the pirates and the slavers once we were on Tatooine."

"How talented of you?" This was pretty darn awkward. "Why don't I tell you about me now?"

"Oh, I would be delighted!" She leaned forwards. "Do go on!"

"Well, I've been in the Temple for as long as I can remember. After a series of Tumultuous Events, Master Qui-Gon Jinn took me as his apprentice and we had many an adventure together. When I was twenty-five he died and left me with a kid that I wasn't ready to raise but tried to, to the best of my abilities. Said kid helped to start the Clone Wars. That's it."

"What a tale!" Rhiannon clapped her hands enthusiastically. "And I'm sure it will prove that you don't need to have lived and experienced too much to be a good Master!"

He paused, wondering if anyone could really be that callous, then decided he'd rather not know. "How about a spar?" That had helped to break the ice, and his hip, with Anakin.

"Oh, yes!" She sprang up. "I'll get my saber!"

He watched her go, and wondered why that sort of people always ended up under his care.


	3. Chapter III

_A/n: Last chapter that was pre-written before NaNoWriMo began. Since I've sworn off writing fanfic for this month, there'll be a bit of a wait before the next chapter, but this is one of my top priorities for after!_

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Obi-Wan was able to get a fairly accurate reading of Rhiannon's character on the walk down to the Salle to spar. She seemed to be, in all categories, a perfect Jedi –she carried herself statuesquely through the hallways but remained a proper one step behind him. She was able to keep up a steady conversation, though he had absolutely no idea what they were talking about seeing as he was too busy analyzing her to say anything other than "Yes," "No," and "Yes, I hate Master Yoda as well," at the appropriate moments.

Rhiannon seemed to be popular as well –every Jedi they passed gasped and bowed down as she carefully stepped by them. Of course, the vain part of him insisted that they were bowing to _him _and not to his Padawan-of-approximately-one-hour, but the logical part of him played the mean old Lightsaber instructor that nobody liked and told him to shut-the-kriff-up and stop being so arrogant. So, unfortunately, he was to conclude that his Padawan was a proper and angelic young woman whom everyone loved.

That is, until the two arrived at the Salle and had changed, Obi-Wan wearing no shirt and a pair of very flattering leather pants to spar in, and Rhiannon in a skimpy little outfit that was all the rage among Padawans, even the ones who were supposed to be wearing proper tribal clothing that reflected their rich heritage as Togrutas. Not that he was going to name anyone, of course.

The trouble began when he spotted Anakin sparring with Ahsoka, and beating the Living Force out of her in their duel. He sighed; clearly, his first Padawan had learned no lessons from him about teaching. "Padawan, would you wait here for a moment? I need to go lecture Anakin about doing the polite thing and letting his Padawan beat him."

"Master, I am your obedient servant, but could I come over with you and meet Anakin and that apprentice of his? I would love to meet him." She gave him a kind, beautiful smile, her teeth even whiter than her skin, which was paler than the coat of a sacrificial lamb.

"Well, okay. I guess so." Obi-Wan shrugged. "He's not exactly the most pleasant person to be around and for the life of me I can't imagine why anyone would voluntarily spend time with him, but sure."

"Oh, goody!" She skipped along beside him, her long hair flowing out like velveteen black roses, attracting many stares that cost the lookers the duels they were in.

Once they became close enough to be heard by Anakin, Obi-Wan spoke. "Anakin, stop the duel. I'm your old Master and I need to tell you what the proper way to be a Master is, because trust me, there's only one."

"I feel as though your statement represents all the repression society puts on individuals these days, Master, and I ask that you give me the freedom to develop my own style and way of teaching."

"You call that teaching? All I've learned under you are swear words, and the idea that revenge is a perfectly acceptable thing. Which it is, but you're supposed to tell me otherwise!" Ahsoka glared.

"Teenagers. So disobedient." Anakin shook his head. "But Master, will you consider my request for you to stop repressing me?"

"No. Now, here's what you're doing wrong: Well, actually, a lot of things, but mainly, you're not letting your Padawan win! You have to do that or she'll develop no self confidence and be all angsty! Anakin, these are the things that keep me up at night filled with worry and sorrow for the future!"

"She's a teenager, Master. She's supposed to angst and have no self-confidence. And besides, isn't that a little hypocritical of you?" Anakin crossed his arms and glowered, doing an unconscious and frighteningly accurate impression of Obi-Wan. "You never let me win!"

"Actually…" he hadn't planned to let him know until he was on his death bed –he wanted his last words to the boy he had spent a decade with to be as out-of-place and insensitive as his Master's had been to him—but right now seemed like a pretty good time to let him know. "…I sort of did…"

"What? I thought I won all those times fairly and as a result of hours of hard work and practice, and because of my dedication to my training!" Anakin stared at his Master, aghast. "My self-confidence has just been dealt a massive blow! How do I know now that I can trust you, and that I can trust myself?"

"You can't trust either." He might as well be honest.

Meanwhile, as Obi-Wan waited patiently for Anakin to get over the realization that he was indeed unable to beat his Master and always would be, Rhiannon and Ahsoka were making acquaintance for the first time. Slowly they circled each other, heads leaned forward, sniffing each other in the way that teenage girls do upon meeting.

"I'm prettier than you," Rhiannon informed Ahsoka, summing up whatever any friendship between the two would have ultimately been about.

"You are so not, rancor-mother!" Ahsoka glared and swung her head-tails.

"Oh, no you didn't! You piece of poo-doo!" Rhiannon tensed, like a beautiful, anthropomorphitised wolf, except prettier. "I will [i]_so[/i]_ bring you down, you Separatist-lover!"

"Why you little-" Ahsoka was about to launch herself at the prettier, leaner, more beautiful young girl when her cell-comm. rang. She slowed herself and grabbed it. "Hello? Oh, hey Asajj! Yeah, still no plans from Master that he's discussed with me. No, I haven't heard anything from the Chancellor. Hmm? Anything new with me? Well, I was about to fight this –darn it!" She glared at Rhiannon. "Lost the signal. I'm pretty sure it was your fault."

"You know what? It wasn't. It wasn't my fault and it never will be. And I would [i]_so[/i]_ fight you to prove it, but I'm too good for fighting."

"Yeah, we'll see about that." The two girls sneered at each other, allowing the tension between them to build into thunderous proportions, before Obi-Wan's personal comm.-link –which was not on speakerphone, unfortunately-- rang. As he was Adult and they were Teenager, they followed their natural instincts and listened in on it.

"A mission? Master Yoda, I just got a new Padawan! It's suicide to let her and I go out without having developed a bond!" He paused, listening for a moment. "All due respect, Master Yoda, but I don't think Anakin and Ahsoka are the best example to throw on me! Have you seen them lately? They're-" he suddenly realized that everyone was pretending to not listen in. "You know what? Never mind. But still, a solo –oh. Okay; I'm sure social interaction will do them both well. Yeah, I'll tell him and we'll meet you in the chambers. Yeah, love you too. Bye." He ended the connection and looked up. "Well, Anakin, it seems that we've been assigned to, along with our Padawans go out and fight some droids. On Hoth."

"A mission! How joyous!" cried Rhiannon, "I can perfect my skills even more!"

"How fun," muttered Ahsoka, "I can learn to tolerate those around me even when they're annoying…" she went on to continue muttering quite a bit to herself, but nobody really cared.

Anakin smiled. "Maybe I can regain my self-confidence!"

Obi-Wan was the last to speak. "And maybe I can develop an actual bond with my brand-new Padawan!"

Anakin stared at him. "You got a new Padawan? You replaced me? How could you?" He looked like he was about to do what normal people did when they burst into tears, which for him equated to killing something.

"Oh, yeah. Anakin, meet Rhiannon. Rhiannon, meet Anakin. Bond." It seemed perfectly natural a thing to say, but neither of them seemed to be bonding. Instead, they glared at each other, a new wave of tension flowing between old and new.

"Obi-Wan likes me better," snarled Anakin.

Rhiannon tossed her hair. "Wanna bet?"

Obi-Wan sighed. This mission would not be fun.


	4. Chapter cuatro

The walk to the Council Chambers was short, for which Obi-Wan was thankful for, as all of the skipping that he was having to do in order to keep up with Rhiannon, who seemed to be gliding through the air, was doing quite a number on his knees.

Unfortunately, this walk was about as eventful as it was short, mostly do to the two irritated followers that were walking at their own paces behind him and Rhiannon.

Ahsoka was the first person who was sulking along in his tracks, which was of considerable surprise to him, seeing as she was almost always leaping and bounding with great joy along the twisted roads composing her own path. For instance, there had been that instance when their roads diverged and she decided that she just_ had_ to go see the Galactic premiere of the holo-movie "Old Celestial Body" (the second in a series about a girl and her angsty relationship with her zombie boyfriend.) Or perhaps that time she had chosen to lock herself up in a room for a week with only chocolate and a few bottles of water to sustain her, and had said, in between sobs and moans that tended to go somewhere along the lines of "he never loved me," that she would not come out until Anakin finally admitted to being married to Padmé, a thought so bizarre that Obi-Wan wasn't really sure where it had come from.

Anakin was walking behind his Padawan, and considering that he was pouting so deeply that his lower lip seemed ready to need some sort of complicated brassiere to hold it back, he probably wasn't setting the greatest example.

Actually, Rhiannon seemed to be the only person in a good mood as she skipped along ahead of Obi-Wan. Her hair flew out behind her, like a wave of midnight snow, and her skin was practically translucent in the bright lights of Coruscant's sun as it poured into the windows, lighting the Temple's hall. She would probably have been beautiful to him, if not for the fact that she was young, his apprentice, and that he had been repressing his emotions for so many years that he wasn't really sure what beautiful meant.

Still, the Council Chambers were but a short distance from the sparring arena (supposedly due to the fact that when the Temple was first built, Padawans were wont to get overenthusiastic when fighting one another, and "accidents" were so frequent that the Council spent more of their time yelling at the perpetrators than discussing important matters, so it had simply made sense to have the metaphorical crime scene located near to the metaphorical prison.), and the walk was over blissfully soon.

Obi-Wan turned to the Padawans. "Ahsoka, Rhiannon, please wait outside for a minute. Anakin-"

"That's 'Master Skywalker' to you," interrupted Anakin, glaring and crossing his arms in defiance. "Or is the title just some strange joke that you plan to strip me of as soon as my Padawan is gone, thus explaining my visions of myself complaining about how I don't have the label of 'Master' in the future?"

"-Master Skywalker and myself will be briefed on the mission alone, and give you the details afterwards." Obi-Wan ignored his former Padawan's rantings. Over the course of his life, he had found that many things weren't worth paying attention to, and often enough Anakin was one of them (others included expiration dates, his Master, the High Council –according to his Master—and the Force –according to the Council).

"I'll obey you, or my name isn't Rhiannon Guinevere Winchester Avalon Ventress Moonfire!" Obi-Wan's current, better Padawan gave him a cheerful, chipper smile which displayed her angelic white teeth, lined up like tall, straight sentinels made of calcium and enamel.

"Thank you. And Ahsoka? I trust you'll behave appropriately as well?" Force knew that there would be no consequences if she didn't –she was able to get off lightly most of the time since most of the Council members felt so bad about sticking her under such an incompetent teacher that they just let her do what she chose to—but he liked to pretend that she wasn't any more special than any of the other Padawans.

"Of course. I _always_ behave, just like my Master does."

Obi-Wan ignored her sarcasm. "Good. Ana –Master Skywalker, are you coming?"

"Do I have a choice?" Anakin sighed dramatically and fell in line behind the elder Jedi, answering his own question. "In a place more repressive than today's public schools, I would say I certainly don't!"

"Oh, stop it. You were a slave. This hardly counts as repression." It was remarkable how often Anakin was able to forget his past, almost as if it had had no affect whatsoever upon his character.

"Slave? Are not we all slaves to society, Master?" Anakin stood behind him as he punched open the code to open the door to the Council Chamber. "Slaves to our wishes and dreams and hopes and quite possibly the Republic?"

"Anakin, seriously." Normally he was able to tune everything out by pretending he had an invisible hPod on, but today his impatience was wearing thinner than Ahsoka's tube top. "You are living a privileged, if humble, life. It would do you good to remember that from time to time."

"Privileged? I'm living in a place where I'm forced to have no emotions, have no love, and have almost no clothes! Master, do you know how terrible my Jedi robes look when I'm at a fancy eating place with-"

"Eat fancy, you do not!" Yoda greeted them as they stepped inside the Chamber, giving the customary bows. The wizened Master hobbled off of his chairs and whacked them both in the knees with all the force that he could muster, which was quite a lot. "Eat simple, you do! The Jedi way, that is! Much bacteria, you will ingest, and like it all, you will!"

"Of course we will, Master." Obi-Wan gritted his teeth upwards in his best try at a smile, although it was probably much closer to the 'do-not' side than it was to success, and held the kneeling position for several moments longer than was typical in an attempt to try to regain feeling in his lower legs.

"Good." Yoda went back to his chair and sat back into it. "Your line, it is, Master Windu!"

"Right." Mace sighed and shook his head. "You're here to be briefed about the mission. You-"

"How dare you be the one to tell us why we're here! How can you be so sure that we were put solely within this life to hear about the mission?" In that way of his that he always did, Anakin clammed up instantly before the Council, making for a slightly awkward situation.

"Because I'm Mace kriffin' Windu, that's how." The Master glared at Anakin until the younger Jedi dropped his head. "That's better. Now, as you know, you've been assigned to Hoth. We've received word from our intel spies that a huge droid production factory is being housed within the icy caverns of Hoth. Your mission is to go and destroy it."

Obi-Wan tensed, waiting for whatever else the Korun Jedi was about to say; to listen to hear whatever huge and dramatic curve ball that was surely about to come.

There was silence for several minutes during which nothing happened besides subtle glances being passed between Masters, and Ki-Adi Mundi and Adi Gallia playing footsies.

Finally, Obi-Wan cleared his throat gently. "Er... is there anything else?"

Mace shrugged. "Nope. Leave as soon as you want to. Or not."

"Oh. Okay." A bit... anti-climatic, but Mace Windu was an unpredictable man. "Come on, Anakin. Master Skywalker. You." He bowed to the Masters and turned to leave.

Anakin glared and crossed his arms. "I bow to nobody."

"That's just great. Come on." Obi-Wan seized Anakin's wrist and dragged him out.

"Oh, yes!" Mace's voice rose above Anakin's complaints. "There is one other thing. We've received reports that Asajj Ventress, General Greivous, and Count Dooku all may be involved. However, none of our intel officers has survived long enough to confirm this."

"Well, that sounds important. Shouldn't you have mentioned that in the first place?" He wasn't a man to criticize other's methods, but really. They could have been halfway to Hoth by the time they'd learned that news!

"Shouldn't you have put on a shirt before you left the sparring arena?" Mace raised an eyebrow at Obi-Wan's smoothly sculpted chest, which shone in the dim golden light splashing down from the ceiling of the Council Chambers, and reflecting in from Coruscant.

Obi-Wan raised his bare arms in defense, like a statue posing itself to be defended from the criticism. "Touche. We will leave today." Hoth was far from Coruscant, and it would be a long trip.

"'We?' It's hardly fair for you to speak for both of us! That's repressive."

"Anakin, be quiet." Oh, this was going to be a long trip indeed.


	5. Chapter cinq

"But Master Kenobi, haven't you said that the Council is never wrong?" Ahsoka somehow managed to sound innocent as she piped up. "Wouldn't there being a mistake disprove your words?"

"Well, we don't know that there _is_ any problem. Let's take this one step at a time." That was a wise decision, he felt; Qui-Gon had taught him very early on in his apprenticeship that skipping steps could cause vital details (or ingredients, as had been the case that time) to be left out. "First, we enter the ship. Then we pause and look around. After that, we will determine that, indeed, a mistake _has_ been made, and we had best contact the Council so that it can be rectified immediately. Are there any questions as to our approach?"

A chorus of "No" came up from the group, in Anakin's moody, teenager-like way, in Ahsoka's perky-but-annoyed voice, and in Rhiannon's sweet, breathy tones.

Speaking of his new Padawan, she was tossing her hair as they walked to the ship, shaking her head and letting it ripple like the ink upon which ancient stories had been written on. While on some the gesture would have appeared remarkably shallow, Obi-Wan noted that that was somehow not the case for Rhiannon. It was a simple second nature for her, and actually, she hardly looked as though she was aware of what she was doing.

Ahsoka, never one to be outdone, glared and tossed her head-tails, which flopped back onto her shoulders in a frumpy sort of fashion. "Nerf-herding Sith supporter," she muttered in Rhiannon's direction.

"Petty, jealous, Agri-Corp farmer," she replied, never allowing her lips to move from their perpetual half-smile.

"I'm _so_ bringing you down." Ahsoka and Rhiannon had fallen behind him, but he was easily able to picture her lips curled down to reveal predatory Togruta teeth.

"I'd like to see you try."

This was the point at which Obi-Wan decided it would be wise to intervene. He was fine with a little bit of teasing between Padawans –just as with Anakin and Ferus, it was perfectly healthy—but this looked as though it could get out of hand fairly quickly.

However, it was also the moment at which the cheerful quartet arrived at the ship, which gave him a much more important task to focus upon than to seeing that the two youths didn't kill each other. "Well, let's see if the code works." He walked to the small panel attached to the ship's side, and quickly punched in a series of numbers.

The door creaked as it began to slowly rise, protesting like a bored senator. Actually, mused Obi-Wan, _slowly_ was a bit kind. This was like waiting for a person to ascend to the top of Hoth's tallest mountain, like waiting for Anakin to pick up his com-link.

"I think it's up high enough for us to crawl under," muttered Anakin. "Although I'm not sure if I want my clothes to be wiping this floor."

"Patience, Anakin. And stop being so vain. A Jedi cares not if his robes get dirty."

"Yeah, well, that's not what the Council told me last time." Anakin tapped his foot against the ground in an irritating drumbeat.

"That's because you footed the dry-cleaning bill to them." At last, the door rose up high enough to allow each one of them in. "Come on. Let's see what it's like on the inside."

"Master, it smells funny." Ahsoka wrinkled her nose. "It's kind of like something really old was transported here, and then it died when the heat was turned all the way up." Glancing at Rhiannon and narrowing her eyes, she added, "Actually, it's kind of like-"

"-like your quarters smell? I'm not surprised. You'll feel right at home here." Rhiannon shook her head, silky raven strands caressing each person as they waved about in an invisible breeze. "I'm so sorry that we can't be friends, Ahsoka, but I know when somebody doesn't like me, and I don't lose fights."

"Both of you, shut up for a minute." That was Anakin, depicting his stellar abilities to negotiate a deal between two parties, although actually, it was a lot more subtle than he had been that time with the Gungans. "I don't think there are any rooms besides this one."

'Room' was a rather kind term for it. 'Enclosure' was far more accurate, or possibly 'prison cell.' The control panels circled the walls, making it feel incredibly claustrophobic, and that the walls were painted with gaudy, psychedelic patterns wasn't really helping the affect.

"Oh, I was wrong!" Anakin, who hadn't the impatience to stay in one place and gaze around dumbly, had managed to force open a door that Obi-Wan had assumed led down the ship's engines. "There's a 'fresher in here as well." There was a pause as he leaned further into the room, and then jerked out. "I don't think it works, though. So, technically I wasn't entirely incorrect." He glared and crossed his arms, daring any of his companions to suggest that he had made a mistake.

"Are there any beds? Any weapons?" Obi-Wan walked over to the controls, and quickly got the answer to the second of his questions. "Well, that's a no to the weapons."

"And to the beds." Anakin frowned. "There's no way this is the right ship."

"Where are all the clones?" Ahsoka looked triumphant as she realized the obvious question that all of them probably should have been wondering. "I doubt Master Yoda was expecting us to go to Hoth and back on our own."

"Let's not take it too quickly, Snips." The ever-helpful, and ever-paranoid, Anakin shook his head. "I doubt Master Yoda was planning on us coming back. He's been out to get us for awhile. But she's right; he isn't sloppy enough to make it this obvious. Where are the clones?"

"Okay, that's enough." Obi-Wan was being pushed dangerously close to his breaking point; it seemed that the only person trying not to irritate him at the moment was Rhiannon, who was standing still with a small, delicate frown upon her snowy skin, looking serene despite the circumstances. Actually, at the moment she was probably being a darned better Jedi than he was –she was astonishingly in control of her emotions for one so young, especially when compared to Ahsoka. "I will call Master Yoda and get this straightened out, and then we can depart to Hoth. Are there any objections?"

"Yes," replied Anakin and Ahsoka in unison.

He glared at the two of them. "Wrong answer."

* * *

_a/n: Thank you so much to all those of you who have been reading, and especially to those of you who have reviewed. I swear, I'll try to update sooner next time!_


	6. Chapter sechs

"Master Yoda, this is entirely illogical." Obi-Wan frowned as he stared down at the com-link. This situation was starting to seem desperate, although it might just have been Rhiannon's perfume that was making him think that way (it wasn't overpowering; in fact, it smelled perfectly _right_ on her, like the odor of the first sweet spring breeze to sweep across the moors at wintertime, but with such little distance between them, it smelled rather strong. Of course, if he had a decent com-link that could project an image higher than a few centimeters, then he wouldn't have to have three other people crowding around him in the first place –but of course, _he_ didn't run the Jedi's budget.)

"Illogical, it is now? Illogical, giving your Padawan a Padawan as a Knighting present, is!" Yoda glared at them, somehow managing to sum up nine-hundred years of repressed wrath in one, miniscule expression.

"That doesn't make sense –never mind." It would be most illogical to bother explaining to Yoda that offering another example of the Council's foolery wasn't going to help him to win his case. "My point is, how are we supposed to stage a decent fight against the supposed droid factories on Hoth when there will be many of them, and four of us?"

"Matter not, numbers do!"

"Two of us are untrained Padawans, one is newly-knighted, and the other-" _has a head that will be adding to the décor in a few moments _"-isn't sure he's capable of pulling off such a mission."

"Have some self-confidence, you must! Just because implied, Qui-Gon did, that worthless, you are, does not mean that true, it is!" Yoda pounded his gimer stick on the ground, and Obi-Wan was almost able to see the shockwaves move through the control panel upon which his com-link was set. "Prove him wrong, you must now!"

"What? Qui-Gon said I was –I thought that was just my teenage angst!- never mind." That could be just another thing to keep him up at night when he wondered whether he would ever truly accomplish anything in his life. "Would you at least be kind enough to tell me _why_ we're taking a ship that was made before I was born to fight a potential dangerous battle on a distant planet?"

"Fighting the battle, the ship will not be! Your job, that is, if slipped your mind, that detail did."

"But why is it so old? Usually, the ones you send us in are only around as old as Anakin."

"Not that that's in their prime youth," said Ahsoka helpfully –but nobody bothered to pay attention to her.

"Downsized the budget, the Republic did! Buying our ships from a secondhand dealer, we are forced to know. My problem, it is not."

"But-"

"My problem, it is not! If get you to Hoth, it does, than working, it is."

"Well, what if it doesn't?"

"Positive thinking, you must have!"

In that moment, Obi-Wan realized that for all he had fought and defeated Sith, droids and sewer rats, this was one battle that he simply could not win. Relenting, he began to pursue the other issue at hand. Not the one that involved having an irate former Padawan of course, or the one that involved his talented new Padawan, who, judging by the skills she had demonstrated thus far, had very little left to learn. This was the one that involved the apparent lack of clones. "Well, what about the clones?"

"Indeed! What about the clones, I ask?"

"Where are they? I should have realized it before, but you neglected to mention how large a garrison we would be leading during the briefing."

"Neglect? Neglect, I did not! Think me to be just a senile fool, you do?"

"Of course not. But it's hardly unreasonable to say that, maybe, it slipped your mind. We are in a war. It can be hard to keep track of the small details." He could vouch for this from personal experience, although not as much as Anakin, who frequently forgot larger things, such as that his dream of marrying Padmé had yet to come true, and that he had a Padawan.

"Slip my mind, it did not! No Clones, you have to help you. A test of your skills, this will be."

"What?"

"Deaf, are you going? How embarrassing! Accompany you, no troopers will."

"See, Master? He trusts me," said Anakin proudly. "Master Yoda is aware that I can use my skills to get us out of almost any situation possible. He wouldn't let me win in sparring. He was also the one who trusted me with a Padawan."

"Anakin, we've been over this. It was only the incident with the D'sced puppy that made me feel as though you were perhaps not capable of taking care of someone besides yourself." Not really, but that _had_ played a big role in it.

"Trust you? Trust you, I certainly do not!" Yoda uttered a short, creaky laugh, which was really didn't flatter him. "Thought I did, did you? How funny, that is!" He cackled for a bit longer, leaving Obi-Wan, Anakin, Ahsoka and Rhiannon standing around the com-link, glancing at each other awkwardly, until he finally regained some semblance of control over himself. "No clones, there are for you, because away they all are! On other planets, fighting the same war are they. Budget them wisely, we apparently did not." Yoda shrugged. "On the field, I am not! My problem, it isn't."

At this moment, Obi-Wan realized that skipping all of those non-mandatory Council meetings and briefings had probably been a bad idea. "You mean that Jedi kept requesting more and more troopers to be sent to them, and now we don't have any left? I'm sorry, Master Yoda, but I don't understand what it is you're asking of us."

"Asking? Asking nothing, I am! _Telling _you to take your new and old Padawans to go and blow the place up, I am! Optional, it is not."

"That sounds... unreasonable." Obi-Wan spread out his palm in a helpless gesture. "How can we take on a droid factory of the size you're estimating simply on our own? Getting in will be an issue, let alone blowing it up."

"Wing it." Yoda crossed his arms. "Anymore questions, have you?"

"I... I don't think so." He glanced around at the people surrounding him and raised his eyebrows in question.

Anakin shook his head, and Ahsoka replied in her normal, perky voice, "Not now, Master Wrinkles!"

Rhiannon, who didn't comment on Ahsoka's unusual nickname for the wizened Master any more than Obi-Wan did, smiled (hence revealing her shining, pearly [white pearly; not black] teeth) and said, "No, Master Yoda. Your briefing was so in-depth and accurate that you didn't leave anything for me to wonder!"

"Kind of you, that is, Padawan Moonfire! A good knight, you will make one day soon."

Before he could continue, Ahsoka interrupted him. "What about me, Master Wri- Yoda? Will I make a good knight one day soon?"

"If like your Master, you are, then no. Probably not." Yoda shrugged. "But unimportant, it is, that failures all but one of you will be in twenty or so years! Right now, leaving to go do more important things, I am. May the Force be with at least one of you!"

"May the Force be with you, Master Yoda." Obi-Wan shut down his com-link and pocketed it up, wondering what in the Force they were going to do.

Anakin summed up the elephant in the ship nicely. "Well, we're kriffed."

"Do you want to pilot?" The words popped out of his mouth before he could stop them, and brought him back to Coruscant. Yes, he had a headache, but he wasn't mad! It would take something far more than stress to actually suggest that his former Padawan, who currently held the record for the most traffic violations of any Jedi, could safely pilot them from here to Hoth. "Rhiannon, I mean? I need to, er, evaluate your skills. Get an idea of how much you know already, and what you still have to learn."

"It would be an honour, Master." She glided to the control panel, hair flowing out behind her and into Ahsoka's face in an invisible breeze. "Should we take off now?"

"Well, the situation isn't going to change much whether we take off now or in an hour. So, yes," he added habitually. Anakin's early life as a slave had led him to be severely deficient in the area of understanding sarcasm, and during the ten years that they had trained together, he had gotten used to saying exactly what he meant, in addition to the more entertaining version. Of course, sarcasm was a bit unbecoming for a Jedi, but it was a language Qui-Gon had taught him to speak quite proficiently, and he really did fear falling out of practice.

"Why can't I pilot? Don't I have a say in this mission, Master Kenobi? I'm a Knight. I'm almost equal to you."

"And I am a Master. I have more authority than you." He crossed his arms and glared, getting onto a standstill with Anakin, until he finally decided to just relent. "Fine. You can pilot on the way back."

"Wizard!" Anakin looked satisfied as the ship began to take off, lifting in a smooth arc from the ground.

Obi-Wan turned to look at Rhiannon. She certainly seemed to have control of the situation, her hands moving like smooth white swans over the control panel. "Coruscant Ground Control, this is Jedi Padawan Rhiannon Moonfire-"

"Rhiannon! How have you been?" A voice, quick and eager echoed through the ship's crackly speaker.

"I've been quite good, thank you. You're very kind." She gave a quick, breathy laugh and shook her head, as though amused by the going-ons of those who lived on a plane far below the glorious reality in which she existed. "I'm sending forward my flight plan to Hoth."

"Hoth? I've heard it's cold there. Be careful, Rhiannon." There was a long, longing sigh from the other end of the communications device. "Okay. You're cleared to go."

"Thank you." With a graceful flick of her pale, delicate fingers she ended the conversation.

"Who was that?" Ahsoka glared and crossed her arms.

"I don't know. It's summer. Many of our age-mates who were not fortunate to have been given to the Jedi work for Ground Control." Rhiannon lifted her shoulder up, a gently amused smile flattering her already naturally flattering face. "I treated them with courtesy, and they have responded in a manner most kind ever since. A bit of courtesy goes a long way."

"Yeah, well, courtesy may go a long way, but lightsabers are the shortcut." Ahsoka uncrossed her arms and patted the hilt which was currently attached to her belt.

The ship neatly exited through Coruscant's fake atmosphere at that moment, Rhiannon's gentle hands still smartly guiding it. "We'll be entering hyperspace in about five minutes," she announced.

"Does this thing even have a hyperspace function?" Anakin frowned and leaned against one of the ship's walls, which promptly caved in to reveal a plaster/durasteel combination of insulator beneath it. "I mean, it's older than Master Kenobi." He stood up in a manner as dignified as possible, brushing off the dusty particles which clung to and discolored his black robes.

"It didn't have a working one, but I fixed it." She carefully tucked a long strand of her onyx-black hair behind a delicately carved ear. "It just took the Force and a bit of concentration for me to realign the correct wires to the fuel source to the hyperspace drive. It'll be operating at maximum speed now."

"That's very impressive, Padawan." Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, impressed, because Rhiannon was apparently just an impressive Padawan over all.

She blushed at his praise, a gentle pink sheen appearing over her lovely, high cheekbones. "Why thank you, Master! We're entering hyperspace now." Her hands tapped the controls, as light as a unicorn's footsteps, and around them the stars turned to shining streaks.

Ahsoka broke the awestruck silence as they gazed at how astonishing space could be in its beauty. "So, is it really cold on Hoth? Because I didn't pack any extra clothing."

_And so the fun begins, _thought Obi-Wan as his headache worsened.


	7. Chapter sette

Obi-Wan was not comfortable where he was, despite what an outsider would have thought. It would have been simple to assume that, because he was lying back on a couch, he was in a position that was both mentally and physically pleasing to him. However, such a statement would have been most inaccurate, given that the general mood of the ship was about as comfortable as that Council Session when Master Windu had been mistaken for the Sith Lord.

To say that the atmosphere of the ship was tense was like saying that Rhiannon's hair was black: an accurate statement, perhaps, but it simply didn't do the reality of the matter justice. Indeed, it was 'tense' in the single room, but more than that, it was like watching two Wookiees play dejarik. It was like waiting to see who would inevitably fall off of their floating pod in the middle of a Senate session. It was like standing next to Qui-Gon in the middle of a Council meeting, waiting for the moment when his Master would explain how whatever predicament they had been in had been Obi-Wan's fault.

No, despite the casual positions, this was a most deep situation. Anticipation, along with mold of some sort, was practically dripping off of the walls. Who would snap first? Would it be Ahsoka, the peppy-on-the-outside, dark-at-risk on the inside young Padawan, going out to reclaim her glory as being the best of the best among Padawans from Rhiannon?

Or would it be Anakin, who wasn't nearly as at-risk for going to the Dark Side as his apprentice, but who could certainly be a bit impatient at times? Who it was that he snapped at would be debatable (Anakin seemed to hate almost everybody, except for Padmé. Rhiannon was probably exempt from that as well; Obi-Wan couldn't imagine anyone hating her, but it was hard to tell with Anakin) but that it would probably happen was not. Probably.

Or, Obi-Wan realized, would it be the Jedi Master who had started talking to himself and imagining which one of his companions was most likely to go mad and break the silence?

Well. All cynicism aside, he was perfectly sane. In fact, of the four people on the ship only Rhiannon was possibly able to rival him for sanity, and that was just because she was _Rhiannon_: He had a feeling that if she put her mind to it she could accomplish anything, just like the old lie that most Masters told their Padawans, except it was actually true in this case. Within the first hour of their two-and-a-half day journey, she had beaten Ahsoka in two dozen staring contests. By the second, that number had increased to five dozen. By now, in their fourth hour, nobody cared.

"We should play a game," announced Anakin suddenly, thus ruining a perfectly good far-beyond-awkward silence, and bringing the tension to an oddly anti-climatic halt.

"Anakin, we have fifty-six hours left. Let's not make them more painful than they have to be." And that number was pretty high up on the pain scale as it was, to the point where even Obi-Wan (who had been put through more angsty and pain-inducing things than could possibly be imagined) was wincing.

"We could play games on my Y-Touch. Oh, wait. I don't have a Y-Touch because my Master doesn't love me. See what happens, Master? Now we have to deal with fifty-six hours of having nothing to do. Thanks." Ahsoka glared for several seconds following the outburst, and then returned to the pit of silence that she was wallowing in.

Anakin, however, had the current air of a man who had just had such a fantastic idea that nothing short of a beautiful woman that he knew he could never marry would be able to deter him. "I know! How about Two Truths, One Lie?"

"Too many rules." Ahsoka rolled her eyes. "We could have another staring contest…"

"Or we could just eject ourselves out into hyperspace. We're playing Two Truths." Anakin nodded as he spoke, in an apparent attempt to convey the seriousness of his satisfaction with his proposal. It did better conveying the affect that he had an extremely sore muscle in his neck. "Does everyone know how to play?"

Rhiannon shook her head, coming down to the foolish conversations held by the mortals for the first time. "I never had the chance to play any sort of games," she said in an ethereal, breathy voice that was soft and sad like the wind that blew at the back of a soul mourning its lost mate. "My other Masters were so unkind. They made me work!"

Anakin looked surprised. "Maybe we do have something in common after all! Master Kenobi made me work until I learned things."

"Oh, but I'm sure he won't be as harsh on me." Rhiannon shook her head and gazed at Obi-Wan with a lovely, trusting gaze, like the one worn by a sleek, black-haired, violet-eyed dog. "He seems far too kind for that."

The Chosen One was rather more pessimistic. "That's what I thought, when I was young and naive. I was all 'Pleased to meet you!' And then it turned out he wasn't that great."

"Anakin, don't lie." It wasn't Obi-Wan's pride that made him speak out, of course. He didn't have pride. He was simply defending the truth, something Anakin had never been very good at. "Masters are always very harsh on their first Padawans. Then, after they've worked out all of their anger, they behave kindly to the ones that are better." Qui-Gon was the exception; the Council constantly fueled his anger and forced him to try to actually train his Padawan. "Now, how do you play this little game?"

"It's not too complicated. You tell two true things and one lie about yourself to a person, and have them guess which is the lie."

"So you want to play a game that encourages lying to those around you merely for the thrill of it? And which forces you to face the idea that one of your friends is deliberately deceiving you?" When Obi-Wan was a Padawan, they hadn't played such ruckus filled games. They had sat down quietly and waited and enjoyed the rush of adrenaline that it brought! (And then they became teenagers, but that wasn't relevant at the moment.)

"Yes."

"Oh. All right, then. Who wants to go first?" He had just wanted to make sure that he was clear on the rules.

"I will. Let's see…" Anakin closed his eyes, concentrating. "Firstly, I killed in revenge for my mother's death. Second, I was at the holo-movies last Saturday. And third, I'm married to the most beautiful woman in the whole Galaxy."

There was a moment of silence before Ahsoka spoke. "Well, you told me you were at your special acquaintance's apartment at 500 Republica last Saturday, but I suppose it's perfectly plausible that you went out after that, leaving me behind at the Temple to practice five hours' worth of dueling. And I wouldn't put it past you to have killed in revenge, because I know you have a bit of a temper. So I have to say that the third one is the lie."

"Anyone else?" Anakin looked to the other two inhabitants of the ship.

"For once, I agree with Padawan Tano." Rhiannon nodded, an acquiescent expression sketched upon her strikingly pale, beautiful face. "I think that the third one is your lie."

"Yes, I agree with the Padawans." Although, there really wasn't anything good playing at the holo-movies at the moment…

"Well, you're all… right!" Anakin appeared to change his mind at the last second, as if realizing that he was about to kriff up something major. "But Ahsoka spoke first, so she has to go next."

"Fine. Uh, I killed an Akul with my bare hands when I was five. I was second place in the Padawan's Yearbook last year in the "Most Beloved" section. And I will one day overpower and destroy my Master, once I know everything that he has to teach me."

"That's definitely the first one." Rhiannon spoke quickly and surely, the words flowing out of her soft crescent lips like a clear, uninterrupted river flows gently across a winding valley.

"Right. I was actually three." Ahsoka smirked. "Your turn, Moonfire."

"Okay, then. Let's see…" she tapped a slim finger that was surely stronger than its delicate formation set it out to be on her strong but feminine chin. "I was first place in the Yearbook for "Most Beloved" last year. Many a person has tried to tame my free spirit, but none has succeeded. And I hate puppies."

Obi-Wan was the first one to guess. "Is it the third one?"

"Right!" Her face lit up, as though it were a mere vessel for silver moonlight to find its way through, and light up everyone around her in its gorgeous radiance. "I actually love puppies, and they frequently flock to me to rest in my arms, and to look upon my face with their adoring eyes. Your turn now, Master!"

"Er…" he hadn't been raised a liar, and it seemed oddly counterproductive to the efforts of all those who had trained him to play the game. However, since everyone else was doing it, he really didn't have a choice. "My Master almost didn't choose me. I have soft, gorgeous ginger hair that women love to run their fingers through. And I've never done anything romantic with the Duchess of Mandalore, or with another Jedi."

"Oh, that's the second one." Rhiannon and Ahsoka nodded to Anakin's assessment.

Obi-Wan didn't have the heart to tell them otherwise. "Yes. You got me. Now how much time has passed?"

"About five minutes. Time for Round Two!" Anakin stretched out his legs. "I used to be a champion podracer. Master Jinn liked Obi-Wan more than me. And I'm in love with the most beautiful woman in the Galaxy."

"Third one," said the two companions in unison who were actually playing. The other one had just closed his eyes and resumed lying in his extremely uncomfortable position. Even the tenser-than-unmassaged-shoulders atmosphere had been better than this.

"You know what? This won't get us anywhere. Let's play Truth or Dare!" Ahsoka grinned.

Oh, well. Better that than…

"Truth or Dare? What do I look like, a teenager?" Anakin snorted. "How about Spin the Bottle?"

Oh. Oh, this was not going to be fun.

Fifty-five hours and fifty-five minutes until they arrived on Hoth.


	8. Chapter two to the third power

_A/n: I just had to throw in the card game joke there... thanks to Jedi Ani Unduli for suggesting it!_  


* * *

Peace, quiet and serenity surrounded Obi-Wan. A gentle breeze stroked at his back, ruffled his sexy ginger hair. Nobody existed in this paradise, brought on by about forty hours of meditation. Nobody but-

"Master? I have good news and bad news."

"Anakin, I'm trying to meditate."

"And I'm trying to hold a conversation with you, but apparently neither one of us is accomplishing our tasks too well. See, we just came out of hyperspace. That's the good news."

"That's the obvious news." He had felt the ship jerk when they had stopped speeding at a practically illegal pace and come back to reality, although he had pretended that it was just a tiny groundquake, wiping out the last of civilization on the planet his meditations had brought him to.

"The bad news is that the engine is on fire. We're about to break atmosphere now, but I don't know if our landing will be very soft. Your Padawan is navigating it now. She's not doing as good a job as I would be."

Obi-Wan doubted the last statement, seeing as he hadn't even realized they were in trouble. The smoky smell that he supposed must be the engines was undistinguishable from the odorous residue left by cooking experiment that had taken place sometime in the thirtieth hour, while the ride hadn't been rough since they had left hyperspace. Rhiannon's talents were clearly a far cry from Anakin's –while he was talented at keeping them up in the air, he also had the ability to hit a pothole in midflight, something Obi-Wan had never encountered before.

He finally opened his eyes and started by asking the most reasonable question. "Is the fire under control?"

"Not really. I think Ahsoka is stopping it from spreading, but I can't seem to extinguish it. The engine will probably stop working soon. Actually, make that the whole ship." As if on cue from some great, invisible director, the lights went out. "Well, would you look at that! My visions are getting more accurate."

Obi-Wan sighed and stood up. Was it so implausible that he actually get forty hours or so of peace and quiet while around him card games made for thinly-disguised wars, and Anakin wrote bad poetry? It wasn't like he was asking for much. "I take it you aren't going to take care of this."

Anakin gave him a pitying look. "Have I ever completed an important task assigned to me? Without starting a war, I mean."

"Point taken." He really had failed in teaching Anakin the fine art of Getting Something Done, although he supposed it could be worse (after all, if his Padawan hadn't gone to the Dark Side, then he was definitely doing something right!). With any luck, he would be able to instill a halfway decent work ethic into Rhiannon –although really, it was quite possible that she already had one. "I'll go check in on Rhiannon, and then go help Ahsoka attempt to put out the fire. You stand there and try not to harm anything, all right?"

"I'll do my best, but I can't promise anything." His former Padawan pressed back against the wall, making room for Obi-Wan to squeeze by out of the cramped 'fresher. "Oh, and I know that the journey is practically over now, but can we use the 'fresher again?"

"I guess so." Usurping the tiny closet-like space that was supposed to be a room really hadn't been something that would normally give the Jedi Master joy, but it was the only room besides the main room, and it was difficult to get the silence that one needed for meditation when one was surrounded by roommates who pretended to like each other and be best friends who would gladly lend a should out for a cheap price when you were sad, but who really wanted nothing more than to see you cry and then post photos of it on certain social networks that were scattered across the HoloNets.

Not that Obi-Wan had any experience which such a thing. He was just making an educated guess based on his knowledge of people's nature.

Outside of the 'fresher, in the ship's central niche, the scent of smoke was much stronger. Obi-Wan's first instinct was to strip off his shirt and reveal his masterfully sculpted abs to the world as he wrapped it around his face to help filter out the smoke, but seeing how Rhiannon braved the terror without looking anywhere near undignified gave him strength.

"Padawan, are you okay?" She certainly looked it; hands sweeping quickly across the control panel in a weaving, graceful pattern. However, according to Qui-Gon, he was an insensitive person who had little-to-no talent at figuring out what emotions a person was feeling, so he probably wasn't the best judge at seeing whether or not someone was in a fit mental state.

"Master Obi-Wan! Were your meditations enlightening?" She turned away from the controls for a minute to give him a smile that was what he expected it would like if all of the sunshine in the galaxy were placed behind the most brilliant diamond one could imagine. Across the control panel, her hands continued their complicated dance.

"They gave me a few hours of peace." Worry coursed through him; something must be wrong! Why else would a Padawan be showing concern about the actions of their Master? "How badly are you injured?"

"Injured? Me? Oh, Master Kenobi, I hope I didn't worry you!" She shook her head vehemently. "I do hate to showcase my abilities around people of lesser skill, but I rarely get injured. My sense of balance rivals that of a cat's, while I've always been able to keep a cool head in tumultous  
situations. It's a natural talent."

"Oh, that's good. I always hate unnatural talents. So uncivilized. Do you have the ship under control?" He guessed so, for they seemed to be rushing towards the ground at a fairly constant speed, but it was hard to be sure.

"Well, it isn't really a ship anymore so much as it is a pile of barely welded together metal. However, using my levitational skills to the best of my abilities, I've managed to get it halfway under control while Ahsoka attempts to salvage the engine. She'll fail, of course -she's doomed to ultimately never succeed; poor thing- but it allows me to concentrate. I should be able to get us within five kilometers of our original landing spot." Rhiannon looked at him, hesitation in her big, twilit orbs. "Is that okay, Master?"

"Okay? It's not just that; it's quite good. Keep up the brilliant job, Padawan!" To be able to levitate a ship took a considerable tie to the Force, and it wasn't a skill that he would expect to find in one so young.

"Thank you, Master! I will." Content with the quick smile she gave him, like a fleeting glimpse of a sunset through a curtain of clouds that covered a glowing firmament, he walked down to the second of the two doors, the one that led down to the engine room.

"Ahsoka?" Without bothering to knock, he threw it open. "Are you alive?"

"What do you think?" Smoke rushed out in a huge gust, and with it a young Togruta Padawan (who didn't look anywhere as near as dignified as Rhiannon did). "The engine's gone. We're kriffed."

"Language, Ahsoka. Here, let me see." Obi-Wan delicately stepped past her and descended into the smoke-filled lair. "Oh, good Force!" At his feet lay a flaming wreckage of bolts and gears, and Force-only-knew-what-else. "Ahsoka, it looks like it was hacked apart by a lightsaber."

To her credit, she was respectful enough to sound mildly sheepish, although that might have just been the smoke getting to his head. "I got frustrated."

"Well, that happens. The important thing is that-"

"Master, I hate interrupting you, but we're going to impact in about thirty seconds. I figured that it would be appropriate to give you a time check." Rhiannon peered into the clouded chamber.

"Get back to the controls, and strap yourself in. We'll have to brace ourselves." And hope that the Seperatists didn't see them, and that there weapons system wasn't destroyed-

Oh, wait. This ship didn't come with a weapons system, did it? Well, that was one less thing to worry about.

"I also cut apart the straps. They were being too repressive. Sorry." Ahsoka sighed and looked perfectly docile and apologetic. "I don't have the gift of prophecy. How was I to know that they would come in handy?"

"Padawan Tano! That is utterly -utterly -oh, never mind. Just duck and hope for the best. And tell your Master that he can get out of the 'fresher now if he doesn't do any damage."

"Can do!" She skipped away, easily making the transition from false-polite to perky.

"Well, let's hope this ends-"


	9. Chapter three cubed

Before Obi-Wan was given the chance to finish his sentence, there was the comfortingly familiar sound of something exploding, with the clatter of metal against metal, making him wonder if he wasn't back as a Padawan, with Qui-Gon trying one of his louder cooking experiments.

But alas, the smell here (while being equally unfortunate) was not that of burning sugar, molasses, and tomatoes. This one was the smell of metal and fire, and metal on fire. Actually, the scent was rather like the one that persisted to linger around Anakin's old chambers, despite his best efforts to scrub the place clean.

It also occurred to him that they were falling. Or perhaps dropping was a better term -falling brought to mind that there had been some sort of solid ground beneath them at a previous point, and that certainly wasn't true.

Although it was, perhaps, a bit too late to do any good, he had a bad feeling about this.

At the very least, he supposed he should be singing gleeful praises to the Force that he didn't feel anything when the ship hit the planet's surface. Far be it from his place to speculate, but that probably would have increased the bad feeling a slight bit.

***

Obi-Wan was in the middle of a sunshine-filled field. The air was as warm and soft as a baby's breath, the sunshine as delicate as strands of gold spun into silk by angels' hands. Flowers surrounded him like the tiny pieces of a rainbow fallen to the ground, giving off a light, delicate scent like the perfume Rhiannon seemed to naturally exude.

It was so peaceful, free of Anakin, free of responsibilities, free of rising fuel prices, free of-

"Master? I think the engine exploded."

-voices, free of distractions-

"Master! Let me pass by, Ahsoka. I was trained in both contemporary medicine and natural remedies by the most skilled Jedi healers. I was begged by Master Che to take on her role as head Healer after I figured out how to perform foolproof surgery on fractured vertebrae without even needing anesthesia to be administered. My presence was of so much comfort to the men and women that I was performing my art on that they were able to transcend such inconveniences as physical pain. Alas-"

"Your speech has even less of a point than the Chancellor's annual address, Moony."

"And your crude insults have even less creativity than the solutions presented within those speeches, but that isn't relevant. The important information that I was in the process of presenting to you was that my skills are far greater than yours when it comes to most things, healing included. Now get out of the way and let me tend to my Master!"

"Force, you're pushy." Ahsoka gave a huff, but apparently Rhiannon's ability to make a person see that they should best obey such a sensible request (or demand, but really, Rhiannon seemed far too gentle to demand) worked even on Ahsoka, because Obi-Wan also heard a soft shuffling as she moved out of the way.

"Thank you.Now, if you wish to delude yourself by imagining that you're useful, why don't you go and check on your own Master? You have such an art for speaking to Anakin in his own, bitter, angry language."

"Good idea. Anakin! Are you okay?"

A low moaning sound that Obi-Wan tried to pass off as the temperate breeze gently tearing down ancient branches from trees that really were too old to be allowed to remain undisturbed rose from somewhere in the ship. "I think I stopped the bleeding."

"Good. See, Rhiannon? He's fine."

"Wonderful diagnosis. Truly, your training has surpassed mine, and your kind, compassionate streak is almost overwhelming." Something that he was reasonably certain was a hand touched his forehead, light and delicate like a butterfly touching down. "Master Kenobi? Master Kenobi, can you heal me?"

He wanted so much to stay in the well-lit field, surrounded by plenty of small, fluffy animals in case he got hungry, and water made crystalline by the bright sunshine to drink and bathe in, but Rhiannon's voice was like that of a fabled Siren, or, similarly, like that of the fabled Talented Modern-day Vocalist, pulling him up and away from what he thought was Paradise to something far better.

"Yes…" his voice sounded like it was coming from far away, like that time he had learned of Qui-Gon's unique way of using the Force to imitate his speech (usually used when there were beings of the Attractive Female variety around.) "Yes, I certainly can hear you, Padawan."

Oh, dear. He had forgotten Qui-Gon's rule of SPAM: Speech came first when one was waking up from a coma, then some minor Pain, then some Annoying pain, and lastly, the Major pain.

Speech… yes, he had done that, and here was the pain, slight and pounding in a steady rhythm with his heart. Now it was on to the annoyance as it rose to a crescendo, and lastly… oh. Ouch. The last bit of his Happy Place faded out, green fields bulldozed by angry migraines-to-be.

"Keep lying down. I don't want you to injure yourself further."

Yes, that would be bad, if implausible.

"I think your ribs are bruised," she informed him in her sweet, concerned tones. "No, I _know_ they are. You have minor contusions on your chest as well, and there's a piece of shrapnel lodged in your leg that probably hurts. And bruises all over. Unfortunately, although your skin isn't as fair as mine, you still bruise with a greater ease, apparently. However, once I realized Padawan Tano's mistake, I threw up my psychic shields and managed to block the worst of it from reaching us."

Psychic shields? "You knew that this was coming?"

"Oh, yes. I only had a half-second to react when I realized that Ahsoka had damaged a fuel valve with her saber and that it was about to ignite, but of course, a half-second is like a half-day in the hands of the Force."

"Right. Exactly. Couldn't have said it better myself." It occurred to him more suddenly than the explosion had that it was probably his responsibility to be taking care of his Padawan, not the other way around. He'd never needed to remind himself that with Anakin, of course –the Chosen One was quite good at being taken care of- but apparently, Rhiannon was a bit more nurturing. "Padawan, what about you? Are you injured?"

"Well, I have a small scar now on the back of my hand, but don't worry. It doesn't detract from my appearance; in fact, I'd even go so far as to say that it makes me appear more unique. And it hardly bled at all. My body simply worked on a sort of autopilot, healing it as soon as the skin broke."

"That's good to hear. What about Padawan Tano?"

"Well, she hadn't been acting any stranger than usual, so I do believe she'll be fine. And Master Skywalker –of course I knew that would be your next question; I'm quite adept at reading minds- seems to have more complaints than he does complications. He twisted his wrist about a degree beyond normal, but that's it."

Obi-Wan, who was indeed impressed, and mildly unsettled, with her psychic abilities, finally opened his eyes and began to assess the situation.

Sight opened up all of his other senses, just as vocalizing something brought pain. For instance, he could now tell that it was cold out. Very cold. Like, I'm-on-Hoth-in-the-middle-of-a-blizzard cold.

As he felt a soft wetness and a fierce wind tear at him, entering through the large hole in the ceiling of the ship, he realized that the cold wasn't exactly coincidental. It really was snowing, and snowing quite hard, too.

And they probably were on Hoth, unless something had gone very wrong.

"Can you give me an update on the current situation?"

"Why of course, Master. You were unconscious for approximately seven minutes and twenty-three seconds, Coruscanti Standard Time. In that time, the ship we were journeying on caught fire do to an unfortunate fuel leakage. It didn't burn too quickly due to the low flammability of durasteel, but I think that some of the furniture wasn't up to coding regulations, and that probably didn't help the situation. I was able to soften our landing with the Force, but unfortunately, the ship was unsalvageable at that point. Currently, we've been on Hoth in the ruins of the ship for about fifteen minutes."

"The ship looks better like this anyway," yelled Ahsoka from someplace beyond his vantage point.

He agreed. The paint had melted into a rather pleasant, bland sort of shade. Bland, that was his favorite color. And the twisted durasteel made for the most interesting sculptures, quite like contemporary art. It was nice, really.

Unfortunately, they couldn't stand around and admire it forever. There was a droid factory to blow up, presumably, and at the very least, he needed a better place to tend to his injuries and see that his shipmates were in a decent condition.

"We'd best be moving on." Obi-Wan struggled to his feet, graciously brushing off Rhiannon's offered hand. The shrapnel in his leg actually helped him walk better, in an acupuncture-like remedy. That, or he'd just gotten very used to it. "Anakin? Can you walk?"

"Barely." His former Padawan stood unsteadily. "The pain, the pain! It's like getting my hand cut off all over again, except worse, because the nerves endings are still whole!"

"Oh, stop being such a drama queen." He viewed Ahsoka for the first time since waking. She looked quite well, although the red blood would probably be slightly difficult to view against her skin, unlike with Rhiannon's, on which it would be scarlet thread on the pale tapestry of her skin.

Of course, all of that was hypothetical. Rhiannon, like Ahsoka, looked fine. The Padawans were apparently far more resilient than their Masters.

"Master, I gathered up all of the salvageable supplies. The good news is, most of them burned, so we don't have much to carry." Ahsoka had a single pack slung around her shoulder. "And the bad news is, all we have left is a single blanket and a dozen nutrition bars. Even worse, they're all nutrition bars with berries in them, and I hate berries."

"Is the com intact?" Maybe they could just call the Temple and arrange for this whole ordeal to be over with.

"I accidently destroyed the com before the ship blew up. I was practicing my 'saber forms, and my hand slipped. I was going to tell you before, but you were meditating, and you looked so peaceful."

"Right." Peace… if he could just avoid going homicidal for a little while, he would have all the peace he needed. "Well, let's go. We need to scout around for shelter. This wreckage is hardly giving us any cover."

"Out there? But it's snowing! And probably, it's cold outside. I hate the cold." Anakin glared. "And snow is as bad as sand, you know? Tiny crystals getting all over the place. At least snow has the decency to dissolve in fear before my mighty glare."

"It's snowing in here as well, Anakin. At least in an ice cave it won't smell like scorched durasteel."

"Oh. Good point. I'm convinced."

"Of course you are. That's why I'm called the negotiator. I make people see why I'm right. Now come on, everybody. It's time to start our foraging."

And so the four people emerged out into the wild blizzard on the tiny ice-planet of Hoth, none knowing yet what horrors they awaited…

"It's cold," announced Anakin.

Ahsoka huffed. "Way to ruin the drama, Skyguy."


	10. Chapter square root of 100

Obi-Wan struggled to place one foot in front of the other as snow whirled around him in gusts more furious than Anakin had been that time when he had commented that Padmé really was quite a pretty woman. His feet crunched into the deep snow, making impressively large tracks, made all the more stunning by how quickly they were filled.

Pain pulsed like a drummer whose arms had long since cramped up, and who was only playing based on the episodic twitches of his or her hands, stabbing in his leg and his chest. He grimaced; why did he always suffer so? His Master had never cared about him; the one Padawan he had fully raised was self-involved and uncaring, and…

Suddenly, he realized he was starting to angst, which was never a good sign because it was usually followed by an outburst of Manly Tears, which would probably freeze on his face, thus making the situation much worse. To distract himself, he focused on his companions as they traveled ahead of him, their youthful strength far surpassing his elderly weakness.

Rhiannon was closest to him. Her hair, still perfectly in place, shone against the snow; a raven beacon that let him know exactly where she was. Ahsoka, her skin like a lackluster tomato, was ahead of Rhiannon, leading by several paces. Anakin was somewhere. You could never really tell where he was, which probably explained the stealth missions that the Council always sent him on, and why he always won at hide-and-seek.

Rhiannon shouted something in her bell-like tones, although above the howling wind, which sounded as though its hand had just been severed by a lightsaber, he couldn't be sure exactly what it was. "What was that, Padawan?"

She dropped back to stand beside him, a pale figure that would have easily disappeared into the snow, if it weren't for her violet eyes and midnight hair. "There's a cave up ahead. I managed to find it by sending out waves through the Force, and seeing where they led me, although Padawan Tano's insistence on going only where she wanted to go made it a bit difficult. Should we head out in that direction?"

"Well, that direction is as good as any." Besides up, which was probably the best way to go at the moment, but since their ship was nothing more than a mass of twisted metal and dying hope, they wouldn't be going that way anytime soon. "Lead the way."

"As you wish." She turned in a spin so graceful that it was a shame that it wasn't recorded and used as training videos for all of the dancers and ice-skaters across the galaxy. "Ahsoka! Master Kenobi says to head for the cave that I discovered."

"Master Obi said he's got our backs covered?"

"No!" Rhiannon raised her voice, still as clear and pure as an unpolluted stream beneath the gentle rays of a summer sun, but making it to be as bold as an ocean whose tides were pushing forwards against unsuspecting beachgoers. "Go to the cave!"

"Go to it yourself!"

"Oh, for my sake!" Rhiannon danced lightly over the mounds of snow to degrade herself by standing next to the lesser being. "Master Kenobi has given the command to go into the cave that I discovered."

Obi-Wan couldn't be sure what Ahsoka's reply was, since the wind was louder even than the sound of the eternal burning agony that had been in his heart ever since the death of the man he had regarded as a father. However, if he had to guess, he would have assumed that she snapped back, "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?"

Rhiannon, he noted, didn't demean herself by responding to such foolishness. Instead, she persevered on through the blizzard, the epitome of strength in difficult times, until her midnight locks suddenly disappeared into what Obi-Wan had been assuming was a solid boundary.

In its muddled state, the first thought to cross his mind was that he wasn't surprised that a Padawan of her skill could pass through walls. The second thought was that it was actually not a wall at all, but an entrance to the mysterious cave she had found. The third was that she probably really _could_ pass through walls, even if she hadn't just demonstrated the ability to do so.

Then, he realized that he probably should stop keeping track of his thoughts quite so thoroughly, and actually follow her in. By now, Ahsoka and Anakin (who, as it turned out, had indeed been hiding behind his Padawan in some sort of pathetic effort to shield himself from the cold) had gone in as well.

Obi-Wan shrugged. Now or never, or possibly later, except he would probably freeze to death before the last one came, so scratch that. He was going to do it now, and damn it, he was going to do it well!

Enthused, he surged forward, and missed the opening of the cave by about a meter.

Cold snow leaked through the back of his shirt, doing nothing to make him feel better. Well. This was slightly embarrassing.

"Master? Master, are you coming in?" Rhiannon's voice floated out like an echo, whispery and gentle, carried on the great winds.

"Of course I am! I thank you for your concern, but I was just... resting." He scrambled off his feet, sore, tired, and now utterly soaked. In a slightly more coordinated move, he slipped through the opening (which _was_, in all fairness, extremely narrow) and scrambled in next to Anakin. "Push over."

"I can't. It's too dark in here, and so if we go more than a meter into the cave, we're likely to meet some sort of wild Hoth beast. It's safer this way."

"Safer? Anakin, I _know_ you like droids more than people, and I know you don't tend to get along with not-so-sentient lifeforms, but you're taking that to an irrational level. We're perfectly-"

"Master? I hate to interrupt your conversation," spoke Rhiannon in a quick and breathless voice as she leaped to her feet in a smooth gesture and twisted around, like a vine twisting and strangling the life out of a great oak, "but there's some sort of snow beast coming at us, and he doesn't look too happy."

"-safe. Oh, goodness." Obi-Wan lumbered up and yanked out his lightsaber, fully prepared to do his part, since apparently neither Anakin nor Ahsoka was particularly interested in making themselves useful at the moment -but, he realized with a start, that wasn't necessary. Rhiannon had it covered.

She moved smoothly, like raindrops sliding off the tallest towers of the Temple and falling towards the end of their short, wet lives. Her lightsaber was a silver blur, like an extension of her arm; so smooth was its motion. Even in the dim light he could see how her eyes flashed deep and predatory, the twilight moving into nighttime as she attacked with fierce speed.

The Snow Beast, of course, stood no chance against her great skills. It roared, a noisy swan song that blended in perfectly with the roaring winds outside of the cave, but all it received for its vocal efforts was a lightsaber planted square in the chest.

With a thud it fell to the ground, dead. Rhiannon stood over its corpse for a moment like a wolf who had just brought down a kill, before deactivating her lightsaber and turning to face Obi-Wan and his companions.

"It's dead, Master," she said brightly, with no hint of having exerted even a mild effort to bring down the towering creature.

"Padawan, that was... that was phenomenal! How did you manage to defeat it with such speed?" He usually didn't believe in praising students, but the level of prowess that she had just displayed was so much that his words didn't even begin to do justice, and even if he had a thousand of them, the picture that they painted wouldn't be anything even close to what he had just seen.

"Speed? Oh, Master, please don't say that." A soft, rosy blush spread across her cheeks, which had remained a perfect imitation of alabaster up until that point, despite how cold it was.

"I was three and one-tenth of a second behind my usual time. I fear that the chill will soon begin to impair my abilities, even with my tolerance for extreme conditions, which works both ways, in case you were worried about if we ever went to a desert planet, like Tatooine."

"I'll keep that in mind. You never know where the Council will send us next. And don't you worry; the cold seems to have had very little effect on you." Unlike with Anakin, who had his arms crossed and who wore a frown that was unquestionably close to a pout.

"That's very flattering of you to say." Rhiannon stepped lightly around his former Padawan and his former Padawan's Padawan (whose skin was starting to look rather blue, although that might have just been because of the poor lighting) and knelt down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing him back into a sitting position as he tried to get to his feet to further assess the cave. "Master, you're injured! Stay still."

"Oh, am I? That's unfortunate." Yes, injuries _would_ account for the pain. That was logical. He was lucky to have such a logical, intelligent apprentice.

"I was able to get a rough idea of what wounds you had encountered in the battle against the ship, but healing would have taken too long –at least two minutes, I'm afraid; my skills simply aren't what they should be. Now that we're out of the ship and in a proper shelter, please, let me help repair whatever physical damage you may have suffered."

He was tempted to take up the offer immediately, and he almost did, but then he realized that he was a Jedi Master, and he was supposed to be selfless. Or was it selfish? He was able to vaguely recall Yoda preaching the first one, but hadn't he practiced the second one, that time in the cafeteria, with all of those muja pastries? This was confusing.

At last (which was really only after a few seconds of mental debate) he concluded that it was indeed his original conclusion that was right. "Rhiannon, it's very kind of you to offer to do that, but I can't accept. I need to make sure that you save your strength –which, surely, must be depleted after what you just did to the snow beast—and to make sure that all others are uninjured before I can heal myself. I need to be self-sacrificing; it's in the Code."

His Padawan's eyes blazed unexpectedly, a strong passion setting alight the gloaming-shaded pupils. "No, Master! You _must_ be healed yourself first. I would be a terrible Padawan, if I insisted it be any other way! Regardless of that; Master Skywalker and Testy Togruta Tano are fine. Ask them yourself, if you doubt my words!"

Given the closeness of their quarters, neither Anakin nor Ahsoka was bothering to pretend that they weren't listening in on the conversation. "Don't worry about me, Master Kenobi! My fingers haven't fallen off yet. I think that the Force is acting as a bit of an insulator. It's doing about as good a job fighting the cold as Rhiannon is fighting with me, but seeing as I haven't fallen into a pleasant sleep yet, I guess everything is fine with me. Except that I can't feel my toes." Ahsoka shrugged, which was a mostly-pointless gesture, given that it was so dark in the cave that Obi-Wan probably wouldn't have seen the Sith Lord himself coming towards them.

Anakin's response was far more prompt. "I'm suffering terribly, but you don't really care about that."

"Fair enough. Okay, so it seems we're all okay? Good. Now, we need to start figuring out what to do."

"And first, I heal you." Before he could object, Rhiannon reached out and pulled off the tattered remnants of his shirt, revealing his pristine abs to the world. "Just as I thought –minor fractures. Easy to heal." She pressed a hand to the gentle, subtle outline of his ribs, and Obi-Wan felt the warm flow of the Force's healing energies transfer, coursing through his body. "That should take care of your leg as well," added Rhiannon, and indeed it did, expelling the tiny bits of shrapnel that the explosion had lodged in there, and binding his flesh again.

It was a masterfully done job, neater and quicker than the care he typically received at the hands of the professional healers. It made him feel almost guilty for a moment, using

Rhiannon's talents like this when she could be back on Coruscant, saving lives with those magic hands -but the guilt didn't last long. He wasn't _that_ selfless.

"You have my eternal gratitude for that, Padawan," he said, rising to his feet and feeling better than he had for a long time, possibly since before Qui-Gon had introduced him to the sport of extreme sparring. "Now, to assess the situation-"

"Master?" Anakin had apparently found some motivation in him, for he was standing up. The simple act took leviathan strength, since it was cold, and Anakin withered like a flower when it wasn't at least half the temperature of the surface of a sun. "We have a problem."

"Don't tell me that there's another snow beast." Actually, that wouldn't be so bad, since he knew that they could deal with those. Better the snow beast that they knew than the... whatever that they didn't.

"No. See, I was exploring, and there's a door at the end of this cave -not too far down. Turns out, this isn't a cave after all! It's actually an entrance-way leading to the droid factory we were sent to destroy."

How wonderful. "Very serendipitous. The one cave we find just happens to lead into a droid production center? This is unfortunate." If anyone other than Rhiannon had been the one to suggest they take refuge here he would probably be rather annoyed at them, but it was hard to take fault with his new, shiny Padawan.

"We should probably start moving," added Anakin, as an afterthought. "The prospect of the three of us against several dozen -possibly hundreds; I didn't get too good a look- legions of battle droids doesn't frighten me, but I think that the snow beast is starting to smell."

"How wonderful it is for you to be prioritizing." Not that Anakin was incorrect, at least not this time. It _did_ have a bit of an odor, although he had smelled worse: the time that Qui-Gon had insisted he try fried Tauntaun came to mind immediately. He had heard that those things smelled bad when they were alive, but cooked, they _really _put up a stink.

Silence fell over the group for a moment, letting them all mull over in their own private thoughts.

It was Anakin who killed the silence, because, putting it simply, Anakin was good at killing things. "I'll let you figure out a way out of this one, Master."

Ahsoka, for once, agreed with her Master. "Definitely. Master Kenobi, have I ever mentioned how great you are at problem solving? It's, like, really great, the way you can get us out of any sort of situation. Really. It's no surprise you're a Master, with that sort of skill -you deserve that rank far more than I can ever say."

Rhiannon, at least, was loyal. "If we use your patience and my patience and my intelligence, I'm sure we can come up with something," she said, as light and optimistic as a spring day that has yet to be crushed by a winter storm that had yet to get the memo about seasons changing. "It is, after all, partially my fault we ended up here -although I must say, Padawan Tano was the one insisting that we take this direction. In all fairness, I mean. Regardless, I'll do my best to rectify the mistake, even if it was hers."

"Thank you, Rhiannon." Yes, there was one person worthy of knighthood in the group, at the very least. Things could be-

"-the snow beast is decomposing pretty rapidly."

-no, best leave that thought incomplete.


	11. Chapter Twelve

"So, should we rush into this without a plan, or figure out what we're doing first?" Anakin tapped the fingers of his robotic hand against the floor. The sound echoed with a ringing like metal on metal, which, mused Obi-Wan, made perfect sense, given that the floor probably was metal. Or perhaps durasteel. He wasn't really sure what the Separatists were using these days to construct droid factories in the hearts of mountains on Hoth. As far as he was aware, no study or survey had ever been done on that particular topic, which really was a shame. The lack of funding for such things was a growing issue, and if they ever made it back to Coruscant, he would suggest that Anakin bring it up. He wasn't sure how he did it, but his onetime Padawan had a way of getting whatever he wanted, at least as far as the Senate was concerned.

"Personally," continued Anakin, "I like the second option much more. Then at least if it fails, we can blame it on our lack of a plan. We'll look incompetent if we make a plan and still screw up."

"I want to sleep. Seriously, why can't we sleep?" Ahsoka looked irritated. "If I die, I want to die happily and quietly in my sleep because I'm frozen. Then, years later after civilization has fallen, rebels will discover my frozen body and cryogenically work to restore me. Ergo, my death will have been both peaceful and temporary, and I'm not really sure why you keep opposing it!"

"Ahsoka, nobody is going to die while we're here. I don't care how peacefully you would go, you are going to die somewhere else, is that clear?" If anybody was going to die, it would be him, Force curse it, and he wasn't even going to give the Separatists the pleasure of dealing the final blow! No, he would probably just curl up and go to sleep when all this was done, which didn't exactly make his words to Ahsoka meaningful. However, it wouldn't be necessary for her to ever know that he was being slightly hypocritical, unless he actually did go to sleep and never wake up. And even if he did, it wasn't as though he'd have to deal with the consequences of her finding out.

"Master, I've been thinking, and I've found a potential way to destroy the droid factory." Rhiannon's voice gave welcome warmth to the cave, like a sweet spring breeze blowing in through Hoth's frigid summer air. "It's very risky, though."

"Did anyone ever wonder if maybe I'm getting tired of always doing things the risky way? Maybe I'm getting sick of it. Maybe I have a wife I want to return safely to. Why doesn't anybody ever consider these things?" It was hard to tell if Anakin's questions were genuine or rhetoric. Actually, it was quite plausible that even he didn't know, and that the only reason he had for speaking was to hear the sound of his own voice.

However, Qui-Gon had instilled in him that it was always better to be speaking than to be silent, unless you were at a funeral, and occasionally even then. For a man of few words, Qui-Gon had possessed remarkable wisdom. "No. You're getting sicker from your disgusting dietary habits and lifestyle than you are from taking risks, and the only time that you seem awake is when you're doing something so blatantly foolish that even a droid without a self-preservation function wouldn't attempt it. You certainly aren't getting tired. And since you aren't married, your last two sentences are more or less void."

"All very logical points." Anakin nodded, in a show of acknowledgment that was remarkably polite for him. "Regardless, I disagree and think you're being insensitive by not considering that some people might not want to take whatever risk Rhiannon is going to suggest."

Obi-Wan chose to ignore him, following a different part of Qui-Gon's sage advice, although this time he was tweaking it slightly, and putting "Anakin" where Qui-Gon had said, "The Council." "Please go on, Padawan."

"Well, the way I see it, we have two options." In the dim light of the cave, he could see Rhiannon cross her legs into a traditional lotus position, as if channeling her inner flower. "We could go in, and attempt to ambush them."

"That probably won't work. I killed a security droid a few minutes ago. If memory serves me correctly, they should come looking for it in about five more minutes. I stabbed it before it had a chance to send out a distress signal," added Anakin proudly.

Obi-Wan closed his cerulean eyes for a moment, wishing desperately that he could just go to sleep and leave everyone to fend on their own –but that wouldn't be fair to his new Padawan, who had done nothing to awaken his wrath.

Then again, she was probably the only one who could cope perfectly well on her own, judging by the astonishing skill that she had been displaying. He wondered if fifteen years of age was too young to be knighted.

"Anakin, next time-" oh, Force; was there going to be a _next time_? He didn't want to be pessimistic, but if they got out of here mostly alive, that was painfully possible "-could you please mention the forthcoming troops of droids sooner? I know you like to improvise when stuck in a life-or-death situation, but I prefer to at least know that one is coming."

"Yeah, and I prefer not to have my spontaneous artistic integrity compromised. I'm not promising anything."

"With that new information at our soft but strong hands, perhaps I should continue." Rhiannon paused for a moment, politely waiting for Obi-Wan to give her his consent, which he did with a resigned sigh. He honestly wasn't in a thinking mood, which greatly decreased the likelihood of him coming up with a plan, and certainly, something would be better than nothing. "That brings me to my second option. I preface it by saying that it is dangerous. It is risky. There is a chance that I actually might… _fail_, along with the rest of you."

There was a sharp and sudden intake of breath, and then a cough as Ahsoka choked on air. She waved a hand. "Sorry. The air didn't like my well-placed gasp of astonishment, I guess."

"As I was saying, the other possibility involves us ambushing the droids. As any beginner's course into the environmental impact of the Separatist movement will tell you, the manufacturing of droids is not as clean and beautiful as the uneducated mind might think. Byproducts are created, and since Count Dooku apparently doesn't care very much about destroying worlds through global warming, cooling, or the creation of an actual atmosphere, they aren't disposed of properly. However, in an enclosed space the byproducts can interfere with the machines used to manufacture droids. They must have a way to relieve all of the waste in the air that comes from the production lines."

"So you're saying that if we can find a giant smokestack and crawl down it, we could ambush the droids." Anakin sounded as though he was, perhaps, intrigued by this suggestion. "I wish we had a ship that could still fly. It would be kind of cool to try to fly one down a smokestack. I don't think I've done that yet."

"Oh, you have. I think that the crash at the end wiped the incident from your memory. It didn't go too well, and I don't want to see if your skills have improved." That idea was a terrible one, especially given that Anakin did not like to be enclosed in small spaces, which he always conveniently forgot until he couldn't move his arms from his side.

Rhiannon's proposition, however, was as mysterious and alluring as she herself. "To get to such an opening, we would have to scale the mountain. It would be cold, and the weather probably wouldn't improve much."

"We are Jedi!" The violet eyes belonging to his Padawan blazed with a burning passion, brighter and bolder than any lightsaber or victory fireworks could ever be. "The elements will not dare to challenge us! With the Force on our side, we can-"

"Master? The door at the back appears to be opening. I think that the droids are –oh. They've seen me." Anakin stood as his saber's halcyon blade sprouting up like a tree on growth hormones. "I guess we don't have much of a choice."

Rhiannon drew out her own sword, a shining silver beacon of glory in the dark. "It would seem as though I spent too much time planning, but that can't be right. After all, planning is such a great thing that time spent on it is not time wasted, right Master Kenobi?" She slashed at the second of the two droids which had been sent to investigate the apparent demise of their comrade. The first had been taken care of by Anakin, who clearly didn't have any parental instincts, if that was how he took care of something.

"Right." He rather liked that philosophy.

"Well, I'm going down." Anakin walked casually to the light at the end of the tunnel, which wasn't actually that bright –just enough so that he could see Anakin walk towards it, in a sardonic parody of what a fool would do in the situation. Apparently, the droids didn't need much light to work in, which was probably due to that they were droids and-

It was then that Obi-Wan realized Anakin was serious, and that he had just disappeared into the bowels of the mountain, and that Ahsoka had gone with him.

He looked at Rhiannon, silhouetted by the dim glow lighting from the foreboding center. Her long hair flowed down her back, moving lightly in a gentler version of the mighty winds that fought for dominance outside. "Ready, Padawan?"

"Ready, Master," she replied, and together they surged forward down the short tunnel that led to the ledge overlooking the droid factory, a flawed man and a perfect girl ready to destroy the legion of evil mechanical beings which populated the heart of darkness deep inside the mountain.

Metaphorically dark, Obi-Wan reminded himself, as he shielded his eyes against the growing glow, which burned nearly as bright as the aura his Padawan gave off. They seemed busy below, although some sort of shielding device –apparently good for hiding only, since Anakin and Ahsoka had both gone over successfully—prevented him from seeing anything clearer than clusters of dark shapes and hulking machines.

Obi-Wan shrugged and tried to shoulder off his anxiety, mentally preparing himself for the ordeal of jumping. "Now or never, I suppose."

"Indeed." Rhiannon, her face glowing not from the factory below but from the inner store of light that she held, bent her knees at the same time he did, and in a synchronization that most portable chrono-devices would have envied, they leapt forwards, deep into some forbidding terror that they could not properly see…


	12. Chapter the Twelfth

Passing through the shield wasn't exactly fun, but given all that he had been through, Obi-Wan couldn't exactly bring himself to go up to the Temple's mysterious thirteenth floor, where the Complaint Department was supposedly located. Or at least, that was where it was according to Qui-Gon, and he _would_ know, given the number of times he must have journeyed there.

All he felt was a short, electrical sensation, akin to the time he'd turned on his lightsaber while it was still plugged in and recharging, and all things considered, it wasn't that unpleasant. Not really.

The fall that followed, however, was. There was apparently quite a drop from where the ledge ended to the floor of the factory, and he recalled the brief, insignificant detail that all of the guards that Anakin and Rhiannon had destroyed had been hover droids.

The landing was even more unpleasant that the fall. Of course, the Force, like the kind, giving, parental figure that it was softened it, but like many parental figures it apparently didn't want him to be getting off too lightly for idiotically agreeing to go along in the mission in the first place. Or for not harassing Yoda until he was sent on the mission instead of the qualm-filled quartet, because in all technicalities, Obi-Wan wasn't sure that he'd ever agreed to go here.

Anyhow, the Force was kind enough to reduce the pressure on his knees as he landed standing up on the hard, possibly stone ground. Rather than shattering both of his kneecaps as he landed on them, or even shattering one (indeed, the Force was in a generous mood today!) he merely bruised both of them as his momentum carried him forward, and he collapsed in a heap.

He then, of course, did the logical thing and stood up from the heap, and then got a blaster shoved into his chest by a droid.

"State your rank and your purpose, or be executed immediately." As severe as the words were, the droid sounded rather droll. That was odd, especially when that this was probably the most exciting thing that had ever happened to it was factored in. To Obi-Wan's knowledge, Jedi spies rarely fell into droid factories. One would think that it would have more of a reaction, all things considered.

Then again, perhaps droids just weren't excitable. Some things were like that. Anakin, for instance: they had only done this whole 'go blow up a droid factory' thing once before, and while Obi-Wan hadn't actually been there, he imagined that his Padawan had reacted with some sort of emotion to the new situation. Now, though, he seemed very comfortable.

"We're surrounded," he informed Obi-Wan, in a matter-of-fact tone, one with far less emotion than even the one that he used when discussing the moisture levels in the air. "And, I don't think the droids are very happy."

"They seem rather apathetic. That's far different from being unhappy." "Apathetic" was how he had always got when Qui-Gon had told him about all of his shortcomings. "Unhappy" happened when he had to admit to Anakin that he was wrong. He wasn't unhappy too often.

"The core reactor is in the very center of the mountain. That's why it's called the 'core reactor,' because it's in the core." Ahsoka stood next to her Master. "Apparently, the center is right there." She jerked her chin forward, indicating a point in the not-so-distant distance: it would take Anakin, in a speeder, about a minute to get there, which meant that whilst running as fast as they possibly could, they would arrive in about three minutes.

"Prisoners: identified." Apparently, they weren't worth getting excited over. Obi-Wan was more offended than he should have been at that realization. "Status: to be executed on the spot."

In the few seconds that the droids were processing this latest development, Obi-Wan was making several more observations. First of all, total annihilation of the factory was a must. He could only guess at the amount of droids there, but he figured that there were at least as many there as there were grains of sand on Tatooine.

Secondly, the best way to guarantee utter annihilation of anything was to blow it up.

Third, the core, which Ahsoka had referenced previously, was chock-full of burning hot chemicals that provided the energy to run the robotic arms that were currently putting the "droid" in "droid factory." It was extremely risky, having such a cocktail of unstable elements all chumming together so closely just to get a bit of energy, but the Separatists weren't too big on wind energy, or other slightly safer alternatives.

Fourth, there was no possible way that a person could stick there lightsaber into the controls of the core to shut down the safety features and then allow the natural progression of things to occur without getting blown up themselves.

Which led to point six, that the unfortunate quartet needed to either come up with a better plan or draw straws to see who was going to have to make the Breathtakingly-Heart-Wrenchingly-Noble Sacrifice.

And, at that second, all of the droids' wires began to buzz with the recognition of what their current mission was.

Obi-Wan cursed and drew out his saber. Blazing with a glee more perceptible than Qui-Gon's after winning a 'debate' with the Council, it allowed itself to be guided by the Force, striking down the droid that had brought the news of what their eventual fate would be, if the Separatist tools got their way.

"Where do we go now, Master?" Anakin, hard at work against the oncoming platoon of droids, had to shout to be heard, which was very rarely the case: usually, he shouted simply for the sake of it.

"We need to talk!" Executing a neat pirouette, he spun around and managed to narrowly avoid a vermillion blaster bolt, and then stab the holder of its source right where its heart would be, if it were organic, and if it had the typical cardiovascular system of bipeds. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Rhiannon and her silver blade, like a length of moonlight shining from a bright star in the Force, striking down a droideka. Ahsoka was next to her, using the backhanded grip she always reverted to when she was trying to show off and look special.

"Now? This is hardly the time! Whatever it is, I'm certain it can wait." Anakin's hair was flopping into his face, mingling with small beads of perspiration. Obi-Wan wasn't sure exactly how he could be sweating in the first place, given that they were on _Hoth,_ for Force's sake, but he had long ago learned not to try to understand the mechanics of these things, as they would do nothing more than confuse him and cause him to be struck by pain-inducing beams of energy.

Obi-Wan glanced around, trying to look for a destination that could put some sort of meaning to why they were deflecting the droids' fire, besides self-preservation and other boring things like that.

Large production belts extended like treaded pathways into the bowels of the cavern; the core was probably slightly off-center, given how deeply they seemed to go. Production began at the other end of the factory, meaning that they had probably dropped in, uninvited, through the back entrance. Useless, but good to know. Droids, fully assembled and ready to go, came off of the lines at this end, just where they could line up and fire the shots that he and his partners in defense of the Republic were currently trying to avoid.

"Master! If it's necessary for us to communicate, I can arrange a Force-field around us. It's risky, since I haven't practiced it at all since I was but a child, but it once saved everyone on Tatooine from a meteor that would have otherwise impacted the planet and caused a catastrophic reaction that would have wiped out all life." Rhiannon breezed up next to him, her 'saber never ceasing its motion, like the swift, deft fingers of a weaver shaping together the cloth of death.

"She's lying. Even I can't bring up a Force-field." Anakin clumsily sent a trio of bolts flying in three different directions. "It's just a myth, like power corrupting and hate leading to the Dark Side."

"Yes, well, you also can't cook, but that's certainly possible." Usually it required several years in order for anybody to properly acquire his trust, and then a trial period of three more years following that to see if they could hold on to it, and then after that he would carefully evaluate the situation to see if he could rely on that person to get him out of a life-or-death situation alive. Even then, the answer was usually no.

However, despite that he had known Rhiannon for less than a week, Obi-Wan was fully willing to trust her right now. There was nothing more that she could do to earn his trust besides wait out the test of time, and he had to admit, that test was about as accurate as the assessment tests used in the majority of public schools.

"Padawan, whenever you're ready, you have my full permission to attempt to bring up the shield."

"I'm ready now, Master," she said with utmost conviction, and before he could say anything she had clipped her lightsaber onto her belt, and was standing with her eyes closed and arms spread out. A gentle golden glow pulsed at her hands and her black hair flowed outwards as a gentle wind swept over them, carrying on its soft tendrils of air all of the mighty power of the Force, power that his Padawan was controlling as a potter controls clay. She sculpted it with care and ease, thrusting out all of the droids that were under its cover. The golden light spread outwards as she did that, reaching a level that was more blinding then her beauty, and causing Obi-Wan to squeeze his eyes shut against its power.

And then, with a rush, the light stopped. He could tell that even with his eyes closed, but since he wasn't adapted to living without being able to see, that was about it. Wisely, he opened his eyes at that point.

What he saw was a feat of strength that no other Jedi had witnessed since before Master Yoda's time, and which probably wouldn't happen until the Sith were eradicated from the galaxy. He, Anakin, Ahsoka, and Rhiannon were enclosed within a dome of softly-pulsing light that alternated between being a rich, lovely gold and being the same silver as Rhiannon's noble blade. It was translucent enough so that he could see the blaster bolts that the droids were still firing bouncing off of it, but not enough so that he could tell every little detail of the dim factory.

"Rhiannon, this is…" phenomenal? Amazing? A thousand times more brilliant than anything Anakin had ever done? He wasn't sure how to justify the greatness of her feat with mere words, but concern instantly overrode the need as he saw how faint she looked, how the pearlescent sheen seemed to have faded from her skin. "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head, velvety hair moving like a shadow as she did. "No. It's just… it takes up a significant amount of my strength to control a Force-field like this. I can only guarantee you a few minutes of safety."

"Of course. I understand completely. I'll make haste in what I must say, then." He looked over the faces of his three companions, his metaphorical brother, literal Padawan, and whatever Ahsoka was. They didn't always get along, and he didn't always particularly like them, but they were a constant in his life; had been for what, four days? Eternity, it seemed like.

"Have any of you suggestions as to how to destroy this factory?"

In response, two shaking heads, and a soft, tragic sigh from Rhiannon. "None but what I fear you plan to say," she said softly, and he knew instinctively that their minds were in the same ship on this one.

He drew in a deep breath, cursing the words he had to say. "In order for three to move on, one of us must die."


	13. Chapter Unlucky Number

A silence fell within the pearly bubble following Obi-Wan's macabre prediction. It was heavier than the burden that Obi-Wan bore each day, trying to live up to the high expectations that were set for him, but thankfully, it was also quicker than Anakin's stint as an assistant to the Chancellor. That had taken place when he was a teenager, and had come to an abrupt end in its second hour, when Anakin had attempted to sway all decisions made to Naboo's favor, while being unaware that his words were being broadcast from Ryloth to Malastare.

"Well, I'm always up for a good, noble self-sacrifice, but I'm going to have to sit this one out." Anakin shrugged, looking apologetic. "Blame destiny, not me. I have to bring balance to the Force. Dying would sort of interfere with that."

"More people are killed each year in speeder accidents than by nobly giving up their lives for their companions' sakes, but that hasn't stopped you from treating the skies of Coruscant-" or Elliad, or Adin, or that one planet where the citizens had never seen flying vehicles of that size before, and had taken Anakin's back-flips and corkscrews as a sign of the forthcoming Armageddon "-as your personal pod-racing track."

"And what statistics have you to back that up?"

"Touché." Obi-Wan glared, but he was forced to concede; off the top of his head, he couldn't actually recall seeing the two figures ever being compared. That was one more thing he'd have to investigate, if he made it off the snowball alive.

"I'm too young to die. Sorry." If anyone else had said that, it would have been a statement most un-Jedi-like, bordering on arrogant and being overly attached to life. However, Ahsoka could get away with saying it, simply because…

Actually, now that he thought it over, there really wasn't a good reason for her to go undisciplined for that statement; he simply wasn't in the mood for doling out punishment, and quite honestly, now was neither the time nor the place for a long lecture about how it was wrong to love and cherish life. "Of course. Well, I guess that means…" he took a deep breath as he stared into the depths of inevitability, a feeling that was not unlike the one that came as he prepared to enter the crèche to fulfill his mandatory Temple Service Hours, "…there's only one person left-"

"I am prepared, Master." Rhiannon's voice was as gentle as the shimmering shield that she was maintaining for their sake, but beneath that kind, innocent exterior was a resolve harder than the unpadded durasteel floors of the sparring rooms. "I have long since accepted that the only suitable death for me would be for me to sacrifice myself for the sake of other beings, as lesser as they might be."

"What? Oh, no!" The very idea was unthinkable! Rhiannon was his apprentice, his legacy (for a brief moment Obi-Wan thought of his first Padawan, slightly guilty, but Anakin had paid so little attention to all of his teachings that anything he achieved would certainly be of his own doing, and Obi-Wan wasn't going to falsely take the credit, or the blame). He wasn't exactly sure if they had a bond going, and it wasn't like he had actually taught her anything yet, but it was the endless possibilities of the future that kept him going. "I will not let you die. The sacrifice is mine to make."

"No!" She drew up her perfectly-sculpted chin in a blatant show of defiance, but it was defiance out of noble means, so of course, it needn't be punished. "You are the only thing binding together the four of us. Without you, none of us will ever get off of this icy Hell. If your continued presence requires me to join the Force, then so be it. Destiny cannot be avoided, Master, and only a fool tries to reshape it."

The Force-field that she was maintaining rippled with the intensity of her emotions, colors sliding across the translucent surface in twinkling waves. "I will do what I am sure that the Force has always meant to be, and destroy the factory. From that will come the means of your escape from Hoth. I cannot say what it will be, for there are some things that even I am not privy to in this form, but I can sense it, lurking just beyond the parameter of my foresight, waiting for me to return to our ethereal home. When I am gone, all will be revealed." She took a deep breath, one that spoke of resolution and determination, and of having monologued for a rather long time. "My life is priceless and irreplaceable, but the two of you are the men upon whose shoulders the fate of the galaxy rest. Ahsoka, not so much, but some things I cannot control, and her living while I die is one of those. I will die, and it will be of my choice!"

Finality rang out in her words, and she punctuated them by staring deep into each of their eyes. It was Obi-Wan's that she held the longest, and as he stared deep into the violet orbs, he realized that she wasn't pulling his lightsaber, as the expression went. The swirling pits were lovely neon signs that screamed of her unyieldingness.

"I cannot let you make my decision for me, Master." As kind as her words were, they stabbed his heart, piercing them like the blade of a Sith warrior, like a needle that he couldn't seem to get threaded. "It is not your choice. Anakin," she turned suddenly to look at her predecessor, her gaze no less intense than it had held before, "Will you stand by me on this prospect?"

"Anakin, I'm warning you..." but of course, warning, threatening, punishing, and refusing to talk to him for a month had very little, if any, affect on Anakin.

"Well, I'm not sure. On one hand, I really don't want to die. On the other, it seems rather dishonorable for me to let a teenager sacrifice herself rather than myself. And I don't want you to die, Master. I probably would go to the Dark Side if that ever happened."

"What about me?" Ahsoka asked, looking curious. "Would my death aid you along your inevitable path to the Dark Side?"

"That remains to be seen," replied Anakin. "However-"

"Wait." Rhiannon cut him off in the gentlest way possible, not as a speeder cutting off another vehicle, but as a kitten cutting off the path of a butterfly. "Knight Anakin, answer me this: would you have sacrificed yourself to see your mother live?"

"You aren't supposed to know about that. And yes." He crossed his arms, defensive. "What's your point?"

"My point is that, surely, you can understand my perspective. You would have sacrificed yourself without a second thought, so deep was your love for your mother. Now here I stand, willing to sacrifice myself out of my care for your wellbeing. How can you deny me this right, and force me to live wondering what would have happened if I had only stopped Master Kenobi; prevented him from trying so hard to be noble? Would you really want to punish me like that?"

"Master, she's connecting with me on a fundamental level," complained Anakin, his arms still forming a barrier across his chest, one that would be utterly useless if Rhiannon's shield failed (which it wouldn't, of course, based on the simple virtue that the only thing that his Padawan had yet failed at was proving herself capable of failure). "She's making me be forced to accept her logic." He glanced at Rhiannon, normal blue eyes serving as nets to dip deep within the mysterious depths that were hers. "I agree."

"Anakin!"

"Thank you." She nodded and closed the distance between the two of them, and the examples of Obi-Wan's past and present teachings stood side by side. "There isn't much time; I cannot maintain the shield and have enough energy to get to the core to cause the reaction for much longer. Have I your word that you will do as I am about to say?"

"Yeah." Even as Obi-Wan was contemplating the proper way to stop them, he noticed how Anakin was unable to string words together to form the elegant speech that Rhiannon spoke with. "I guess so."

"Quite fine. Now, here are the events that are to happen, and the order in which you will execute them: I'm going to…" she spoke in a lower tone; not a mumble, of course; but one that he, for some reason, couldn't make out, despite the short distance between them. "…and then you'll leave the cave as it goes up in a blaze of glory. There are others nearby that you can shelter in until your method of escape from this dirty snowball is revealed."

"I understand." Anakin nodded. "But to see you die in there… are you certain-"

"Yes, Anakin." A single tear beaded at the edge of her cheek, a tiny, glittering diamond. "This is what the Force commands, and I am but its humble servant."

Obi-Wan dashed at that moment, intending to render her incapable of movement. He knew the consequences of such an action; knew that she would likely be unable to control the shield if he stopped her now, but he was willing to deal with whatever happened. He could wing it, if it only meant that he could preserve Rhiannon's life…

"I'm so sorry, Master," she whispered in a soft, tragic tone, as she raised her delicate, flower-like hand. The tear slipped out of her eye, giving an effect that was both dramatic and tragic. "So, so, sorry…" her hand flicked slightly to the left, and he felt himself halting his efforts to stop her, and then plunging deep into a world where darkness blacker than Rhiannon's hair twisted and reigned, and he knew no more.


	14. Chapter the Final

**A/n: **And, with this chapter, I conclude the story. I extend a huge "Thanks!" to everyone who has read/ left a review! I appreciate every piece of feedback that I've received, and I hope that you all enjoy the final chapter.

* * *

_Obi-Wan was standing in a field that was a thousand times more beautiful than the one he had envisioned in his meditations so very long ago. It was like he had been thinking of Anakin as powerful and had seen Rhiannon for the first time: the standards were raised to a point so high that the first normality could hardly even be considered 'not bad' anymore._

_His feet were placed upon a carpet of grass far greener than the other meadow; his lungs were breathing air so clean that it was as if it had just been bathed and scrubbed with rose-scented soaps. Flowers sparkled beneath a golden firmament, twinkling beneath a haze of multi-colored lights, flashing off of some great, invisible disco ball._

_In the center of it all stood Rhiannon. She was clothed in a long gown that seemed to be woven of moonlight, with threads that were silver when they weren't reflecting the colorful swirls of light. Flowers had been braided into tresses that were darker than the darkest length of velvet and smoother than the smoothest silk. Her locks fell well past her shoulders, where butterflies were sitting, drawn in by her beauty and grace._

_She had been standing with her back to Obi-Wan when he first entered the tiny bit of paradise, but she turned as he came to a halt in the center of the tree-surrounded clearing. Her skin sparkled, sunlight,  
moonlight, starlight, or whatever it was catching on the tiny diamonds that were inlaid beneath transparent skin._

_"Oh, Padawan," he whispered, and his voice sounded like he must have looked: far too clumsy and mortal to belong in such an ethereal place. "Padawan, I'm so sorry. I never wished for this to happen..."_

_She smiled at him, sad and gentle and forgiving all at once, which was really very expressive for something that had universally come to symbolize happiness. "Master, the Force works in ways that no mortal can ever understand. My death wasn't your fault. Certainly, you could have worked harder to prevent it, but all paths would have eventually led to the same destination."_

_"Here?" he asked, looking around. His awe shone through his tone, as well-hidden as a Sith's lightsaber in the middle of a duel in the Temple. "Is this where we come when we join the Force?"_

_"The lucky ones come," she replied, wearing another kind smile. "But all mortals are inherently unlucky, and you need to leave now, Master Kenobi."_

_"No," he whispered. "Not back there… I don't _want _to have to deal with all of that again –with the war, with the Senate, with Anakin…"_

_"You'll come back here one day," whispered Rhiannon, and Obi-Wan understood that it was a promise that would she would never dare to break, just as her hair would never dare to break apart and lower itself into the land of split ends. "And before you go, there is one more thing…"_

_"What?" The light had begun to change from a gentle polychrome haze to one that bordered on psychedelic, and Obi-Wan understood that time was of the essence now. _

_"I've met your Master here. Qui-Gon Jinn. He says to tell you that he realizes now that you weren't as big a failure as he thought you were, and to quit your angsting and do something productive."_

_A great lightness overtook Obi-Wan, and it wasn't because the strobe was giving him a headache. In a few words, his late Padawan had managed to completely absolve him of all of the guilt that he had been carrying. It was a gift far greater than any "World's #1 Master" mug that he had ever received from Anakin, and he realized that there was nothing that she could have said that would have made him feel better than he now did._

_"Thank you, Padawan… thank you for-"_

"I think he's waking up."

"Kriff! It was so nice, not having to behave with him out." There was a brief pause, and then the voice, which Obi-Wan was fairly certain was property of a young Togruta female that was currently his first Padawan's Padawan, added, "He can't hear us, can he?"

"Of course not." The aforementioned first Padawan scoffed. "I've woken up from comas more times than you've woken up from sleep. You never know what's going on when you start to stir."

"Good. So we can keep talking about him?"

It was not the sort of conversation that Obi-Wan enjoyed waking up to, nor was it the type that he would typically be eager to join in, but now wasn't a good example of how his time was usually spent. In fact, if the ordeal on Hoth was a stereotypical day (or two days, or what-have-you; he wasn't very clear on that) then this was about as far from standard as he could get.

For one thing, he was warm. Not "it's midday on Tatooine" warm, but something like "I'm lying on a bed in what might or might not be a med-bay with a blanket wrapped around me" warm. He was quite familiar with the latter degree; Force knew he had experienced it enough.

For another, he didn't seem to actually be on a planet anymore. As comfortable as modern-day space-travel was, engineers still couldn't get ships to imitate land to the point where that little instinct that informed you that you were flying through a giant void was silent.

The contrast that both of those factors provided to the situation that he remembered being awake for last was startling, and he decided that speaking was not only an option; it was a darn good idea. "Please do persist, Padawan Tano. I'm fascinated to hear what you have to say."

"Is he being sarcastic, Skyguy? I didn't know that you could be sarcastic after being asleep for two days."

"Two days? Really?" Obi-Wan finally opened his eyes, and confirmed his suspicions: he was indeed aboard a spacecraft, on a bed, with a blanket wrapped around him, although he wasn't in a med-bay; merely a regular sleeping compartment. Anakin and Ahsoka were apparently too lazy to stand, and were sitting down on opposite sides of the bed. "What exactly have I missed?"

"Well, it's a pretty epic story. If flashbacks were real, I would definitely be flashing back to it now." Anakin leaned back, nearly tipping over his chair. "Where should I start?"

"You should start by not asking me silly rhetorical questions whose answers you already know. Why exactly would I need a recap of all that took place while I was awake?"

"You never know. I've heard that memory starts going pretty early these days." Anakin raised his hands, predicting the slew of protests that Obi-Wan was about to let loose over him. "Which isn't to say _all_ people lose their memories, leaving them behind like hopes on a desert wasteland planet. Just some.

"But that's beside the point. On Hoth, what Rhiannon did was put you into a Force-induced sleep. She confessed that she might have overdone it, but you looked as though you needed the rest, so it was okay. She told me to carry you, which I did. Ahsoka somehow got holo-pics of it, and trust me, it's a lot worse than it looks; it was an awkward angle to be holding you at -you know what? Never mind. They'll never get out anyway.

"So, I had you and Ahsoka had herself, and as soon as Rhiannon dissipated the Force-field, we left the factory the same way we had come, although it was more difficult, since we had to Force-jump up, instead of jut relying on gravity to do the job. Rhiannon was protecting us from the droids; I guess that her powers had reached their zenith, or something, letting her go out in a blaze of glorious... glory. Ahsoka and I, and your unconscious body, had just reached the end of the tunnel and felt the first flakes of snow brush against our cheeks like the kisses of angels, when the factory blew up.

"It was pretty awesome, like this giant fireball bursting out of the top of the mountain. We stood around watching for awhile, and then I realized what Rhiannon had meant when she said that we'd find the means of escape from her death. The fallout from her powers was strong enough to boost my already impressive skills, and I was able to relay a Force-message back to Master Yoda. He sent a ship to us, one that was in the area. It belongs to some family he knows that I think are smugglers, except according to him they're just businessmen."

"What's their family name?" Obi-Wan wasn't particularly interested on a personal level, but it seemed polite to greet his hosts by something other than, "Good sir" or "Madam."

"Calrissian. Nice enough. They apparently owed Yoda a favor, but neither party was too specific on the details. Anyways, they came within a few hours of me sending Yoda the message through the Force, so Ahsoka and I managed to wait out the blizzard."

"And we didn't even need to resort to taking off our clothes and huddling together for warmth," added Ahsoka cheerfully. "Which meant that we didn't have to strip you down while you were unconscious."

"I'm very glad." Obi-Wan leaned back onto his pillow. Although he was thankful that he was safe now, and grateful to know the whole story, he felt empty, as though his soul had been a child handed its favorite sweets, and then the hand of its parent, Fate, had reached out and snatched them away, announcing that they were to go to the favored child, Afterlife.

"Rhiannon…"

"If it's any consolation, she probably died –went to go join the Force- left this world very quickly. The way I see it, there are two ways to die that involve fire: in a blaze of glory and sacrifice that causes a cave-in preventing your bones from ever being found, or slowly, like being roasted on a bed of hot coals. Or lava." Anakin shuddered. "I pity anybody who has to go through _that_."

"It isn't as bad as being 'saber-skewered," objected Ahsoka, which then led into a very graphic debate regarding death and, more specifically, what caused it, around Obi-Wan's sickbed. It was the most eventful occurrence of the following hours as the ship flew to Coruscant. The other highlight was meeting the Calrissian family, and watching Anakin teach the young son how to gamble, which Obi-Wan pretended not to see.

Still, time seemed to go by at a much greater speed going back to Coruscant that it had going to Hoth. The likely explanation was that Obi-Wan had spent most of the trip asleep, but whatever the reason, the point was, it didn't feel like long at all before the trio-that-had-been-a-quartet was back on Coruscant.

Yoda was there to meet them when they landed. He had abandoned his traditional homespun robes for a black shimmersilk cloak, an old tradition of mourning that was apparently still prevalent in his species' culture. Obi-Wan was too polite to mention it as he went to greet the wiser Master.

"A success your mission was, but at a great cost," said Yoda, not bothering to ask how he was first. "Mourns the extinguished Moonfire, the Temple does. Her funeral, you are to attend now."

"Now? Master Yoda, we just got back from spending two days on a ship without showers, which is quite a long time when you consider that the days preceding those two days were spent as far from civilization as one can possibly get."

"Broke out, riots did, following your Padawan's death," informed the green Jedi, who had, of course, earned that nickname through appearance rather than by having an abundance of care about the environment, which he polluted on a regular basis. "Difficult, it has been, to get them to wait this long!"

"One shower? Please? There will be many more funerals if I go to this one as I am." The statement was an exaggeration at present, but it wouldn't have been much of one during Obi-Wan's teenage years, and that was a time that Yoda remembered perfectly.

"Quick you must be, or start without you, the ceremony will!"

"Yes, Master. Thank you." Obi-Wan bowed and hurried off, leaving Anakin and Ahsoka to deal with Yoda. It wasn't very kind of him, but since the Force wasn't kind to him, he figured that It wanted him to pass along Its message of unkindness, and as was Its will, so would he do.

Obi-Wan stripped quickly as he entered his apartments, and had a trail of garments left behind him by the time he was in the 'fresher. When Yoda told you to be quick, you were quick. Even the death of a loved one that you had known for nearly a week wasn't enough to justify tardiness.

It was a real shower that he took, not one of those wimpy, water-conserving vibro-showers. He let the water stream down over his muscular arms, which seemed to have become even more defined by the long rest he had gotten; had soap froth up on his abs, which could only be described as "totally ripped."

But alas, it didn't last long. He stepped out of the shower, steam rising from his body because of how hot it was, and appreciated his appearance in the mirror for a moment, which was actually a moment longer than he should have, given Yoda's instructions to be quick, but he was a sight too good not to appreciate, so he figured that slacking slightly was justified.

He got dressed much in the same way he had gotten undressed, and had just pulled on his boots as he stepped out the door. Anakin was waiting for him, his eyes covered. "Are you decent?"

"Of course I am. I very rarely walk faster than I dress." One time failing, and that was what Anakin remembered. Not all of the successes; oh, no! The Chosen One's selective memory really did get irritating more often than not.

"Caution kills, but it can be useful when I want it to be. You know, like lightsabers."

"Caution and lightsabers do tend to go hand in hand," agreed Obi-Wan as they undertook the short journey to the Room of the Pyre.

Obi-Wan's apartments were located conveniently close to the place where all of the funerals of fallen Jedi were held. He sometimes wondered if the Council had done that on purpose, but has since dismissed the idea; that would have been them making his life easier, and that just didn't happen.

It was almost impossible for the two to pass through the crowds packing the normally silent, empty room, and they probably would have been doomed to spend the funeral on the purlieus of the chamber, were it not for their combined public image. The crowd parted for them, like the stone hearts of all boys had parted for Rhiannon, and they were able to push their ways to where Master Yoda stood.

"Took you quite long, it did, simply to shower! Arrogant, you seem." Yoda glared at him, and shook his head. "Handsome enough to do that and get away with that, you are not!"

"My apologies, Master. That was not my intention." He bowed his head respectably. It was hard not to be respectful in this room, with a dome that let in sunlight as gold as the hair of the two women that he loved. The far wall was covered with the names of Jedi who had fallen in the field of duty, and the front wall with Jedi who had died in their sleep of natural causes. The back was the one that everyone faced during a ceremony, and that was a very good thing: it was beautiful, shining marble with gold letters making names in symmetrical columns, whereas the front one, despite being made of marble as well, had only a few dozen names on it, not even enough to form a full row.

"Good. Now go! Speak, you must." Yoda slapped his scrubbed-clean shins with his infamous gimer stick, urging him towards a podium that had been erected in the middle of the hall, right where the pyre that earned it the title of Room of the Pyre usually was.

"Speak? Me? Why would I do that?" Traditionally, the Jedi funerals consisted of burning the corpse, Yoda saying how death needed to be celebrated instead of mourned, and then everyone meeting for caf at a local shop. Or possibly something stronger, depending on whose funeral it was, and what time it was being held.

"A body, we have not, and entertain them all somehow, we must." Yoda waved a scrawny arms outwards. "A better idea, have you?"

"Well, you could speak. You're wiser than I; surely you could give a more rousing speech."

"Her Master, I was not, though an honor, it would have been to claim that title." Yoda bowed his head. "Speak to them you will, Master Kenobi, and not because a gift for it you have, or even a mediocre talent: for Rhiannon, you must give your speech! Deserves more than this paltry farewell, she does, but credit for its poorness will not fall to me. Determine the quality you do, not I!"

"I thank you for bequeathing the honor of her epitaph to me." No, he didn't. Actually, he cursed the Master as best he could while fully knowing that Yoda could smite him with little more than a glance, but that wasn't something he was wont to admit out loud.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair to give it that perfectly-mussed look, and walked to the microphone. He was about to tap it and request for the attention of his audience, when he realized that he already had it: apparently, they had been so bored that they had been watching and waiting for someone to come and give a speech. Silence had fallen just as quickly as his hopes of a life with his new Padawan to teach had, and that was saying a lot, because his hopes had fallen _very_ quickly.

"Hello." It was a good way to start a speech, Obi-Wan fancied, almost as good as Anakin's, pardon me, my arm has been cut off and I need help. Could you provide it? Actually, that very well might have gotten their attention to be more focused than a generic greeting, but there wasn't a way that he could see to fit it into the context of the moment. "Well, I suppose you're all here for the funeral of Jedi Padawan Rhiannon Moonfire."

The crowd responded with an unenthusiastic silence, and then a voice called out, "It's Rhiannon Guinevere Winchester Avalon Ventress Moonfire, genius."

"My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi," he continued, ignoring the interruption just as his elders had ignored him many times before when he pointed out obvious details that they had a tendency to overlook. "I was Rhiannon's Master. I oversaw her training, and I oversaw the girl that words cannot describe."

"Then you're wasting your time, aren't you?" called another voice. At least, Obi-Wan thought that it was a different one; everything echoed so much that it was all distorted, and really quite hard to tell.

"Rhiannon was everything that a young Padawan hopes to be. She was powerful and confident, but also humble. I could see an inherent generosity in her. Her life before arriving at the Temple was tragic, and her ending is too painful to me to relate. Hers is the sort of story that is retold again and again. She is the Force, and so I say now, may the Force be with you all."

Obi-Wan hesitated, not quite sure if he was supposed to be done or not. "There will be drinks at Dexter's Diner," he added uncertainly. "But the Temple won't pay for them." With that, he stepped from the podium, and began to try to figure out what the best route was from there to the exit.

"Cheapskates!" called a voice, and this time, many more rose up to agree with it. The crowd turned to leave, their mourning cut short by Obi-Wan's lack of vocalizing skills.

"Rich, Padawan Moonfire was! To the Temple, her credits were left." Yoda somehow managed to amplify his voice without the microphone, a skill that Obi-Wan greatly envied. "Buy meals, we will!"

A great cheering rose from the crowd, who turned back towards the podium just as three white doves flew up. "That was a nice touch," said Anakin, who had somehow appeared next to Obi-Wan. "Did you...?"

"Not I. And Master Yoda hates doves; that's why Qui-Gon had requested them at his funeral." They stood in silence, watching as the mysteriously-appearing birds took wing.

"Are you coming to Dexter's?" asked Anakin. "I am. The Temple is paying, and I can usually earn a few more free drinks, since I'm a brave soldier risking his life for the Republic."

"No." A plan had been formulating in Obi-Wan's mind, pushing away his grief. "I can't. I must do something first."

"I need to do a lot of things, but that's not stopping me. What do you have that's so urgent?"

"Ventress was Rhiannon's sister. She carries her genes. If I save Ventress from the Dark Side, I will be honoring my Padawan's memory. It's the greatest gift I can offer her. I need to go and find Asajj, and then I need to rescue her from the grim throes of evil."

"Have fun with that." Anakin paused, considering Obi-Wan's plans. "So you're just running off? Are you sure? Because I think I might have killed Ventress."

"She's alive." Obi-Wan turned his crystalline turquoise orbs to the Coruscanti sky. "I know she is. And I won't rest until I find her."

"It's your life." Anakin clapped him on the shoulder, in a gesture of affection that was far manlier than the man-hug, and turned to leave. "Should I tell Yoda where you went?"

"I'd appreciate that. Thanks."

Obi-Wan watched as his not-biologically-related-but-still-totally-platonically-more-than-a-friend-brother walked off, leaving him suddenly alone in the great room. Only the doves were there to keep his company.

He watched them fly, and hoped that they would find a way out to the freedom of the huge, treeless, smog-filled city. Their wings seemed to be reflecting the rays of the late afternoon sun, but he could still see their true, snowy shade despite the golden accents. They were beautiful, the opposite of Rhiannon's onyx hair, and almost as pale as her skin.

A single tear slipped down Obi-Wan's cheek at the involuntary comparison. He brushed it away, like a hot snowflake from the skies of the snowy hellhole of Hoth. The Jedi Council, in all of their wisdom, forbade crying, and although Obi-Wan wasn't perfect (indeed, he understood now that perfection could not be allowed to walk on this plane for long) he could try. Oh yes, he could try.

"Until we meet again, Rhiannon," he whispered, and he walked out of the Room of the Pyre and off to meet his destiny.

_-end-_


End file.
